MASK  AND  DOMINO 


BY 


DAVID  L.  PROUDFIT. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
PORTER   &  COATES. 


Copyright,  1888,  by  POSTER  &  CO4TES. 


TO   MY   THREE   BOYS. 


M191886 


JAM  indebted  to  the  Century  Magazine  for  permission 
to  reprint  such  of  the  following  poems  as  were 
originally  published  in  that  magazine.  The  character 
sketches  in  the  latter  part  of  the  volume  first  appeared 
in  the  New  York  Daily  Graphic,  in  its  early  days,  over 
the  pen  name  of  Peleg  Arkwright,  an  awkward  and 
unsuggestive  pseudonym  which  I  did  not  originate 
myself,  and  of  which  I  was  always  heartily  ashamed. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGB. 

The  Willis 7 

At  Odds  with  Life 9 

A  Brilliant 15 

Ere  Summer  Pass  Away 18 

Reunion 19 

Yval  and  the  Queen 23 

A  Dream 26 

Bismillah 28 

In  the  Academy  of  Design 30 

The  Palmer 33 

In  the  Confessional 37 

Felis 39 

Tatting 41 

Veronica 43 

A  Romance  of  the  Jerseys 46 

Mask  and  Domino 52 

Decoration  Day 56 

The  Indicator 59 

A  Kiss 62 

Portrait  or  Spectre 65 

Reason  and  Faith 68 


(  QNTENTS. 

PAGE. 

Love's  World 71 

Apotheosis 74 

An  Antient  Legend 77 

Cousin  Hoy 83 

Fiost  Pictures 86 

Prehistoric  Smith 89 

Pro  and  Con 92 

Life  and  Character 93 

I  Want 96 

Coasting 98 

Tableaux 100 

The  Unattainable 103 

Silver-Gloss  and  Tangle-Foot 105 

A  Catastrophe no 

Down  the  Switchback 112 

METROPOLITAN  CHARACTER  SKETCHES  IN  VERSE. 

The  Bartender's  Story 117 

The  Old  Fireman's  Story 122 

Daddy  Flick's  Spree 128 

Poor  Little  Joe 134 

Under  a  Canvas  Sky   .    ; 138 

Father  John 144 

Love  in  Oyster  Bay 148 

Warden  Keep  a  Place  for  Me 151 


THE  WILLIS. 


THE   WILLIS. 


'"THE  Willis  are  out  to-night, 
1      In  the  ghostly  pale  moonlight, 
With  robes  and  faces  white. 

Swiftly  they  circle  round, 
And  make  not  any  sound, 
Nor  footprint  on  the  ground. 

The  forest  is  asleep; 

All  things  that  fly  or  creep 

A  death-like  silence  keep. 

A  fear  is  over  all; 

From  spectral  trees  and  tall 

The  gathering  night-dews  fall. 

Moveless  are  leaf  and  limb, 
While  through  the  forest  dim 
Slow  glides  a  figure  slim. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

A  figure  slim  and  fair, 

With  loosened,  streaming  hair, 

Watching  the  Willis  there! 

"These  are  the  ghosts,"  she  said, 

"Of  hapless  ones  unwed, 

Who  loved  and  now  are  dead." 

Her  hair  was  drenched  with  dew; 
The  moonlight  shimmered  through 
And  showed  its  raven  hue. 

"Each  one  of  these,"  she  cried, 

"Or  ever  she  was  a  bride, 

For  love's  sake  sinned  and  died." 

"I  come,"  she  said,  "I  too; 
Ye  are  by  one  too  few," 
And  joined  the  phantom  crew. 

Swiftly  they  circled  round, 
Nor  was  there  any  sound, 
Nor  footprint  on  the  ground. 


AT  ODDS  WITH  LIFE. 


AT  ODDS  WITH   LIFE 


5T^  IS  a  toilsome  path  to  climb, 
*       But  all  climbing  is  sublime 
(If  you  think  so).     One  flight  more, 
Yonder  is  the  studio  door. 
Artists'  eyries  should  be  high, 
Don't  you  think  so?     Near  the  sky; 
Up  above  the  small  affairs 
Of  our  lower  life  of  cares; 
Up,  far  up,  in  regions  where 
Stars  and  comets  float  in  air; 
In  an  atmosphere  that  brings 
Glimpses  of  unusual  things 
Unto  those  who  dare  to  soar 
To  the  shifting,  changeful  shore 
Of  strange  fancies,  fair  and  far. 
Tired,  Elsie?     Here  we  are. 

No  one  here.     Sit  down,  my  dear. 
Rest  a  moment.     It  is  clear 
He  will  soon  return.     You  see? 

9 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

I'alette,   brushes,   carelessly 
Klun^  about  in  artist  fashion. 
Ah,  these  men  of  fire  and  passion 
Love   disorder,   and   it  seems 

befit  a  man  of  dreams. 
Let  me  whisper  something,  dear; 
I've  a  fancy — though  I  fear 
'T  is  irreverent  indeed — 
That  our  average  artists  need 
Something  more  of  that  fine  fire 
Which  ethereal  dreams  inspire, 
To  redeem  them  from  the  trace 
Of  an  easy  common-place. 


This  the  merit  of  our  friend: 

He  begins  where  others  end. 

With  all  their  fidelity, 

Color,  form,  and  harmony, 

He  has  something  better  worth; 

Something  of  a  nobler  birth, 

Born  of  earthquakes,  lightnings,  storms. 

He  has  friends  in  fairy  forms, 

Such  as  throng  the  midnight  hours, 

Play  with  meteoric  showers, 

Ride  auroras  through  the  sky, 

Mount  the  crescent  moon  on  high, 

Then  go  fishing  down  the  night 

After  stars  of  faded  light; 

Familiar,  he,  of  elf  and  gnome; 


AT  ODDS  WITH  LIFE. 

All  fantastic  shapes  that  roam 
Sceptred,  winged,  a  glorious  band, 
Through  the  mystery-haunted  land- 
Wondrous  land  of  fire-fly  gleams — 
Seen  of  poets  in  their  dreams. 


But  the  dreamers,  men  who  see 

Shadowy  forms  of  mystery 

In  the  earth  and  sea  and  sky; 

Men  whose  winged  fancies  fly 

To  the  uttermosc,  remote 

Realms  where  shapes  ethereal  float; 

Men  whose  fine  sense  subtly  hears 

Music  from  the  distant  spheres, — 

Often  miss  their  heritage 

In  this  heartless,  hurrying  age, 

Though,  too  late,  their  fame  may  be 

Handed  to  posterity. 

For  they  seem  at  odds  with  life, 

Armored  feebly  for  its  strife. 

And  our  friend,  whose  picture  there 

Shadows  forth  such  white  despair, 

Hath  his  trials,  I  surmise; 

For,  within  his  hungry  eyes, 

When  I  saw  him  last,  I  read 

Something  curious,  vague  and  dread. 

Then  I  said  that  I  would  buy 

This  Prometheus,  and  his  eye 

Lit  up  strangely,  with  a  fire 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Born  of  some  extreme  desire. 
Think  you  famine's  spector  stood 
With  him  in   his  solitude? 


Had  we  sooner  come,  indeed, 
It  perhaps  had  served  his  need. 
But  you  like  it?     Then  to-day 
There  shall  be  no  more  delay. 
See  what  vigor,  grandeur,  gloom; 
What  an  atmosphere  of  doom! 
What  a  hopeless,  vast  despair, 
In  that  figure  lying  there 
Chained  with  iron  links  and  rods! 
Awful  eyes,  that  judge  the  gods! 
Face  of  agony  untold, 
Yet  contemptuous,  scornful,  bold! 
Bare,  cold  rocks,  uplifted  high 
To  a  lowering,  thunderous  sky; 
And  a  sea  in  league  with  fate, 
Making  all  things  desolate! 
Yes,  with  somber  feeling  tainted, 
But  a  picture  grandly  painted. 
Such  a  canvas  lifts  the  soul 
Out  of  Habit's  dull  control, 
Plumes  Imagination's  wing, 
And  crowns  the  artist  like  a  king. 

What  a  strange  collection  here! 
Curious,  is  it  not,  my  dear? 


AT  ODDS  WITH  LIFE. 

Rubbish,  some  good  folk  would  say, 

In  their  lofty,  stupid  way, 

Lacking  insight.     Who  can  tell 

What  suggestions  herein  dwell? 

See  this  travesty  in  wood 

Of  a  human  attitude; 

There  a  figure  stu  fifed  with  hair, 

Semblance  of  a  lady  fair; 

Bits  of  armor,  china,  lace, 

Plaster  hands,  a  foot,  a  face, 

A  sword,  a  Malay  creese,  a  knife 

Fit  to  take  a  pirate's  life; 

Gobelin  tapestry,  faded,  rare, 

Screening  in  yon  alcove  there 

Such  a  dismal  effigy 

Hanging  from  a  beam.     You  see? 


Well,  my  gentleman  is  late. 
Elsie,  since  we  still  must  wait, 
What  thing  better  can  I  do 
Than  to  make  love,  sweet,  to  you? 
Nay,  no  prudery,  my  dear! 
What  vague  presence  do  you  fear  ! 
Rosy  lips,  one  little  kiss!— 
Elsie,  darling,  what  is  this? 
Trembling,  and  your  face  is  white! 
What  has  frozen  you  with  fright? 
Tell  me,  precious!     Speak  to  me! 
Do  you  dread  yon  effigy? 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

No,  no,  no,  my  sweet,  't  is  naught! 
VT  is  not  living,  as  you  thought! 
See,  't  is  nothing  you  should  fear! 

It  is horror!     What  is  here? 

Come  away!  come!  come!  't  is  true, 
This  is  not  a  place  for  you! 


A   BRILLIANT, 


A   BRILLIANT. 


IN  fiery  bowels  of  the  earth 
Fierce  flames  were  privy  to  its  birth. 

Then  for  a  thousand  ages  dark 
Was  hid  its  fine,  celestial  spark 

Beneath  a  million  tons  of  rock 

Piled  on  it  by  an  earthquake's  shock; 

Until  a  desperate,  ruffian  band 
Of  grimy  miners,  knife  in  hand, 

Fought  for  the  twinkling,  star-like  stone. 
The  winner,  going  forth  alone 

To  taste  the  sweets  of  fortune  fair, 
Was  robbed  and  perished  in  despair. 

Then  to  a  sallow,  eastern  king 
Was  brought  the  scintillating  thing. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

And  wars  ensued,  for  kings  were  then 
Of  passions  like  to  common  men, 

And  each  would  have  the  marvellous  gem 
For  flashing  of  his  diadem. 

It  tossed  on  battle  storms  until, 
Its  wayward  destiny  to  fulfil, 

A  god's  adornment  it  became, 
Whose  glory  was  his  eye  of  flame. 

The  god  was  tumbled  from  his  throne, 
And  then  it  graced  a  maiden's  zone. 

And  then  'twas  lost.     The  maiden  fair — 
But  that  is  neither  here  nor  there. 

Another  thousand  years  it  lay 
Hid  from  the  inferior  light  of  day, 

Until,  at  sacking  of  a  town, 
A  soldier  grim  of  no  renown 

Found  it,  and  sold  it  for  a  song. 
And  so  its  history  sped  along. 

Through  crimes  of  love  and  death  it  came, 
With  mysteries  in  its  heart  of  flame. 

16 


A   BRILLIANT. 

Thou  Queen  of  Dreams,  I  give  to  thee 
This  dazzling  Stone  of  Destiny. 

But  ask  not  by  what  devious  way 
It  cometh  to  thy  hand  to-day. 

It  hath  been  cousin  to  a  crime 
Through  every  darkening  age  of  time. 

Ask  not  too  much,  but  calmly  wear 
Its  splendor  in  thy  shining  hair. 

A  very  star  befitting  seems 

Thy  twilight  beauty,  Queen  of  Dreams. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


ERE   SUMMER   PASS  AWAY. 


OLOVE,  dear  love,  the  summer  sun  is  shining, 
And  life  is  beautiful  with  tint  and  tune; 
And  all  things  rare  and  sweet,  enwrapt,  entwining, 

Lie  dreaming  in  the  murmurous  air  of  June; 
Then  love  me,  love,  ere  summer  pass  away, 
And  dark  and  cold  shall  dawn  a  loveless  day. 

O  love,  dear  love,  come  nearer  still  and  nearer, 
For  youth  and  hope  to-day  go  hand-in-hand; 

The  air  is  softer  and  the  sky  is  clearer 

For  all  the  low  words  whispered  through  the  land ; 

Then  love  me,  love,  ere  all  this  pass  away, 

And  wintry  winds  bemoan  a  loveless  day. 

O  love,  dear  love,  for  joy  of  thy  caresses, 

i   all  the  love-light  in  thy  lustrous  eyes, 
For  all  the  perfume  of  thy  silken  tresses, 

A  soft  enchantment  on  the  fair  world  lies; 
Then  love  me,  love,  lest  all  should  pass  away, 
And  death  draw  near  upon  a  loveless  day. 

18 


REUNION. 


REUNION. 


IT  is  twenty  years,  my  comrades,  twenty  solid  years  to 
date, 
Since  we  were  stripling  captains,  dapper  youngsters  slim 

and  straight; 
And  now  in  portly  manhood,  wise   and  serious,  we   are 

met, 
To  gossip  of  the  stirring  times  of  sword  and  bayonet. 

Our  portly  manhood,  as  above,  our  silvered  heads  and  all, 
May  be  respected,  more  or  less,  by  circles  large  or  small ; 
But,  my  comrades,  all  the  honors  of  our  civil  walks  and 

ways 
Seem  but  empty  to  the  glory  of  the  old,  heroic  days. 

Yet  the  martial  pomp  and  grandeur,  failing  somehow  to 

connect, 

Were  not  always  clearly  present  at  the  time,  I  recollect. 

19 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

There  were  dusty,  weary   marches,  not   romantic  in  the 

lea 
More   especially   if  rations   chanced   to   fail  for  man  or 

beast. 

There  were  times  when   human   nature   had  to  murmur 

just  a  bit; 
There  were   seasons   of  bad    language,   yes,  the   truth   I 

must  admit; 
There  were  bivouacs  in  the  rain  or  snow,  black  darkness 

overhead, 
The  sodden  ground  beneath   us,  with  a  fence-rail  for  a 

bed. 

But  what  appetites  for  lobscotise,  and  what  dinners  large 

and  free, 

Supplemented  by  a  canteen  full  of  " Commissary  B"; 
•With  the  haughty  Sothron's   hoe-cake,  and    the   colored 

aunty's  pie, 
And  a  streamlet  for  a  finger-bowl,  if  one  meandered  by. 

Do  you  remember,  comrades,  how  we  fought  and  over- 
came 

Those  guerilla  ducks  and  turkeys,  war-like  pigs  and  other 
game? 

And  those  savage  rebel  chickens,  who  would  die  but 
never  yield, 

Whom  we  faced  with  deathless  valor  on  so  many  a 
Southern  field? 


REUNION. 

Though  we  murmured,  though  our  language  was  at  times 

a  trifle  queer, 

Though  we  had  but  little  reverence  even  for  a  brigadier, 
Though  we   grumbled    at    the  Government   with   almost 

every  breath, 
Yet  we  faced  the  gray  battalions,  all  undaunted,  to  the 

death. 

We  fought  them  and   we   killed   them,  and    they  killed 

us  in  return; 
But  we  never  thought  to  hate  them,  and  we  never  cared 

to  learn. 
We  met  them  on    the   picket   lines,  with   flags   of  truce 

between: 
They   were  "Johnnies,"   we   were   "Yanks,"   and   better 

friends  were  never  seen. 

What  anomalies  and  contrasts!     I  recall  a  day  in  June, 
When  the  world  was  warm  with  summer,  and  the  birds 

were  all  in  tune; 
Peace  and   beauty   all   about    us,  death  and  danger  just 

ahead, 
On   our   faces   careless   courage,  in  our  hearts  a  somber 

dread. 

Then  the  skirmish  line  went  forward,  and  the  only  sounds 

we  heard 
Were  the   hum   of  droning   insects   and   the   carol  of  a 

bird; 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Till,  far  off,  a  flash   of  fire,  and  a  little  cloud  went  by, 

Like  an  angel's  mantle  floating  down  from  out  an  azure 
sky. 

Then  a  shell  went  screaming  o'er  us,  and  the  air  at  once 

was  rife 
With  a  million  whispering  hornets,  swiftly  searching  for 

a  life; 
And  the  birds  and  insects  fled   away   before  the  "rebel 

yell," 
The  thunder  of  the  battle,  and  the  furious  flames  of  hell. 

Other  memories  come  thronging.  When  our  shoulder- 
straps  were  new 

We  were  nearly  all  the  world,  but  now,  alas,  we  are  so 
few : 

Then  we  marched  with  ringing  footsteps,  looking  gayly 
to  the  fore; 

Now  with  wistful,  dreamy  glances,  we  look  back  to  days 
of  yore. 

If  the  spirits  of  the  dead  revisit  earth  for  weal  or  woe, 

We  might  fancy  they  would  join  us,  those  dear  friends 
of  long  ago. 

Hush,  who  knows  what  ghostly  comrades  may  have  come 
with  noiseless  feet, 

In  the  old  familiar  friendliness,  to  make  our  band  com- 
plete? 


YVAL  AND   THE   QUEEN. 


YVAL  AND  THE  QUEEN. 


WOUNG  lord  Yval  to  his  comrades  pledged  the  queen 
1     with  kindling  eye; 
"She  is  matchless,  radiant,  glorious!    queen  by  right  of 

virtues  high! 
For  one  kiss  of  her  sweet  lips  I  would  be  well  content 

to  die!" 


Cruel,  crafty,  bold   and   sudden   was  the  temper  of  the 

king; 
Wearied,    sated    of   his    pleasures,    gnawed    his    nails    in 

listening ; 
With  a  bitter  malice  smiling  at    the   strangeness    of  the 

thing. 


"Ho,  my   guards,  arrest    yon    stripling!    something   may 

be  learned  from  this; 
Haply  values  must  be  changing ;  'twill  be  something  new 

I  wis 

If  this  sorry  merchant  barter  life  for  one  unfruitful  kiss." 

23 


MAS  1C  AND  DOMINO. 

On  the  morrow,  purple  ventured,  sat  the  king  and  queen 
in  state, 

While  before  the  throne  the  people,  cowed  and  tyrant- 
ridden,  wait, 

Till,  to  serve  the  king's  good  pleasure,  young  Yval  should 
meet  his  fate. 


He,  the  clear-eyed,  stood  there  fearless;  radiant  mid  the 

general  gloom; 
Flushed,  as   though   the   gods   had   granted    some   long- 

prayed-for,  splendid  doom; 
Proud,  as  though  triumphal  arches  spanned  the  gateway 

to  the  tomb. 


Close  beside,  a  swarthy  slave  with  naked  arm  and  naked 
blade, 

Stood  to  give  the  stroke  of  fate  unto  the  stripling,  un- 
dismayed; 

While  the  brooding,  dark-browed  monarch  still  the  bitter 
word  delayed. 


But  the  queen! — ah,  who  shall  tell  what  thought  within 

her  bosom  lay? 
For  no  sign  she  made,  but  sat  there,  mutely  gazing   far 

away, 
With  her  marvellous    face   outshining   all    the    wealth  of 

her  array. 


YVAL  AND    THE    QUEEN. 

Spake  the  king:  "My  lords,  a  riddle!  What  the  value 
of  a  kiss? 

This  presumptuous  youth  believeth  that  a  life  fair  pay- 
ment is." 

Then  he  laughed.  "My  queen,  what  say  you?  Doth 
such  trading  seem  amiss?" 


Loud    he  laughed.     "And  you,  my  lords?     Still  dumb? 

Ye  all  have  doubts  I  see. 
Choose,  then,  fool,  an'  if  thou  wilt  thou  shalt  have  life 

and  liberty." 
Yval   answered    not    in   words    but  at  the  queen  looked 

pleadingly. 


Oh,  the  queen!     Her  eyes  shone   strangely.     Down   she 

stepped  with  regal  grace; 
And  a  mournful,  tender  passion,  swift  and  strong,  lit  up 

her  face; 
And  she  kissed  him,  kiss  for  kiss,  and  death  was  naught 

for  that  embrace! 


Then  forth  stepped  a  mighty  warrior,  drew  an  arrow  to 

its  head: 
"She  is  ours,  and  no  two  men  can  kiss  the   queen    and 

live,"  he  said, 
Twanged  the  bow-string,  hissed  the  arrow,  and  the  tyrant 

king  fell  dead. 

25 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


A   DREAM. 


"One  spake,  but  I  knew  not  the  voice  nor  whence  it  came." 


\\  7HAT  heights  are  mine  thou  shalt  not  know, 
*  ^     What  dark  abysses  yawn  below; 

Nor  empty  words  like  heaven  and  hell, 
Shall  to  thy  senses  dull  and  slow 
A  meaning  tell. 

Thou  thinkest  of  a  mountain's  crest, 
Upreared  upon  the  world's  broad  breast, 

As  of  a  height  that  shall  endure; 
To  thee,  yon  star  in  splendor  drest, 

Is  fixed  and  sure. 

Long  since  I  quenched  its  flaming  light; 
Yet  it  shall  shine  in  radiance  bright, 

Or  e'er  its  phantom  disappears, 
(So  far  it  lies  in  depths  of  night) 

A  thousand  years. 
26 


A  DREAM. 

Poor  fluttering  soul!    thy  pinions  play 
Upon  the  obvious  verge  of  day, 

Inquiring  of  eternal  things; 
One  unexpected,  casual  ray, 

Would  scorch  thy  wings. 

Thou  soarest  upward,  thinking,  sooth, 
To  grasp  immeasurable  truth; 

To-morrow  thou  art  bent  and  worn; 
Spaces  and  ages  in  their  youth 

Laugh  thee  to  scorn. 

Content  thyself  within  thy  place; 
Thy  world  for  thee  hath  ample  space; 

Do  well  therein  nor  look  afar; 
One  simple  deed  of  kindly  grace 

Outshines  a  star. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


BISMILLAH. 


F^ORTH  from  his  tent  the  patriarch  Abraham  stept, 
And  lengthening  shadows  slowly  past  him  crept. 

For  many  days  he  scarce  had  broke  his  fast, 
Lest  some  poor  wanderer  should  come  at  last, 

And,  scanty  comfort  finding,  go  his  way, 
In  doubt  of  God's  grea    mercy  day  by  day. 

But  deep  contentment  in  his  calm  eyes  shone 
When  he  beheld,  afar,  a  pilgrim  lone, 

Fare  slowly  toward  him  from  the  flaming  west, 
With  weary  steps  betokening  need  of  rest. 

When  that  he  came  anear,  straightway  was  seen 
An  aged  man  of  grave  and  reverend  mien. 

"Guest  of  mine  eyes,  here  let  thy  footsteps  halt." 
The  patriarch  said,  "and  share  my  bread  and  salt." 


BISMILLAH. 

Then  calling  to  his  kinsfolk,  soon  the  board 
Was  laden  richly  with  the  patriarch's  hoard. 

And  when  around  the  fair  repast  they  drew, 
"Bismillah!"    said  they  all  with  reverence  due; 

Save  only  he  for  whom  the  feast  was  spread: 
He  bowed  him  gravely,  but  no  word  he  said. 

Then  Abraham  thus:     "O  guest,  is  it  not  meet 
To  utter  God's  great  name  ere  thou  dost  eat?" 

The  pilgrim  answered,  courteous  but  calm, 
"Good  friend,  of  those  who  worship  fire  I  am." 

Then  Abraham  rose,  his  brow  with  anger  bent, 
And  drove  the  aged  Gheber  from  his  tent. 

That  instant,  swifter  than  a  flashing  sword, 
Appeared  and  spake  an  angel  of  the  Lord. 

In  shining  splendor  wrapt,  the  bright  one  said: 
"An  hundred  years  upon  this  aged  head 

God's  mercy  hath  been  lavished  from  on  high, 
In  life  and  sun  and  rain.     Dost  thou  deny 

What  God  withholds  not  from  the  meanest  clod?" 
The  patriarch  bowed  in  meekness.     Great  is  God. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


IN  THE  ACADEMY  OF  DESIGN. 


1SAW  her  in  the  corridor, 
Her  form  was  beauty's  own; 
She  tripped  up  lightly  from  the  door, 
And  stood,  a  splendid  dream,  before 
A  portraiture  by  Stone. 

She  looked  around  with  tranquil  air; 

A  muff  before  her  stood; 
He  seemed,  beside  her  beauty  rare, 
A  study  (or  a  genre  there, 

By  Thomas  W.  Wood. 

She  seemed  to  care  for  him  no  whic, 

As  at  her  face  he  peered; 
No  doubt  she  only  thought  him  fit  • 
For  application  of  the  wit 

Of  dear,  facetious  Beard. 


IN  THE  ACADEMY  OF  DESIGN. 

He  matched  so  ill  her  grace  divine, 

I  wished  he  might  be  shot 
By  one  of  those  extremely  fine 
And  stately  soldiers,  the  design 
Of  Mr.  Julian  Scott. 

Her  hair  was  auburn;  fold  on  fold 

It  fell  in  wavy  flow; 
And  as  its  glory  downward  rolled, 
It  shone  with  shining  gleams  of  gold, 

Like  sunset  by  Gignoux. 

Her  lissome  grace  you  could  perceive, 

For  all  her  rich  array; 
I'm  sure  she  rivaled  Powers'  Eve, 
And  was  as  sweet  as  Genevieve 

By  Henry  Peters  Gray. 

But,  oh,  the  splendor  of  her  eyes! 

Deep  as  the  deepest  sea, 
As  radiant  as  the  stars  that  rise, 
As  fathomless  as  summer  skies 

By  Jervis  M'Entee! 

She  shone  the  brightest  jewel  there, 

Among  those  gems  of  art; 
With  manners  gay  and  debonair, 
More  brightly,  softly,  sweetly  fair 

Than  autumn  scene  by  Hart. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Mcthinks  upon    that   lily   hand 

A  ring  I  fain  would   fix  ; 
With  her  before  the  altar  stand. 
And  hear,  with  joy,  the  accents  bland 

Of  Dr.   Morgan    Dix. 


THE  PALMER. 


THE   PALMER. 


A    HOLY  man  returned  from  Palestine? 
**     Now  let  the  castle  gates  be  opened  wide! 
In  God's  name  bid  him  enter;  food  and  wine 

Set  forth,  that  so  to  him  this  even-tide 
May  joyous  be.     Mayhap  it  chances  so 
That  he  somewhat  of  our  dear  liege  may  know. 

God  grant  he  may  have  tidings!     Hither  now 
He  comes;   worn,  weary,  bent  and  slow; 

A  monkish  cowl  doth  overhang  his  brow; 

They  seat  him  at  the  board;   he  bends  him  low 

In  prayerful  wise;    I  cannot  stay  apart— 

1 1 must  speak  with  him  straight.     Peace,  throbbing  heart! 

Thy  blessing,  father! — Nay,  but  sit  and  eat. 

A  cup  of  water?     Sure  thy  vows  must  be 
Austere  indeed,  forbidding  wine  and  meat 

On  weary  journeys.  Prithee  now  to  me 
Unfold  if  aught  thou  knowest  of  my  lord, 
Who  went  to  Paynim  lands  with  his  good  sword. 

33 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Thou  saycst    \\cll:    he   was  the  stateliest  knight 
That   e\er   marched   to   those    far-distant   Chores. 

()o<l  wot,  1  know  that  on   the  breast  of  fi-ht 
K\rr   in    front   his   crested   helmet   towers! 

The  prince  he  was  of  princeliest  Christian   men, 

What  mu:4  he  be  to  dark-browed  Saracen? 


I  mind  me,  Palmer,  how  my  bosom  swelled 

When  fn>t  1  >a\\  him  couch  his  pennoned  lance; 

In  merry  jonst  his  valiant  right  arm  quelled 

The  best  and  bravest  of  the  knights  of  France; 

And  when  victorious  in  the  gallant  fray, 

He  crowned  me  Queen  of  Beauty  on  that  day. 


And  when  he  brought  me  hither  as  his  bride, 

And  through  these  gates  we  entered  hand^in  hand, 

No  queen  was  ever  flushed  with  more  of  pride, 
No  dame  so  happy  was  in  all  the  land; 

And  when  he  armed  him  for  the  holy  war, 

(iod  speed  I  gave  him,  though  my  heart  was  sore. 


Alas  the  day!     My  memory  lingers  yet 
Upon  the  scene  of  parting  that  befell; 

II     stooped  him,  while  his  prancing  steed  did  fret, 
To  kiss  the   little  child   he  loved  so  well; 

Then  sternly  rode  he  forth,  my  kingly  one, 

And  all  his  armor  glistened  in  the  sun. 

34 


THE  PALMER. 

Come  hither,  Hubert!     This  the  comely  boy 
I  held  in  arms  the  while  he  rode  apace. 

My  Hubert!     Thou  art  still  my  only  joy! 
See,  doth  he  not  reveal  his  knightly  race? 

Will  not  my  lord,  when  he  doth  come  again, 

Rejoice  to  see  his  boy  approved  of  men? 


Thou  tremblest  with  fatigue,  good  Palmer;    yet, 
Before  thou  goest  to  thy  rest,  I  pray, 

Tell  me  but  this:     My  noble  spouse  hath  met 
With  naught  of  ill,  so  far — so  far  away? 

What  sayest  thou,  dreadful  monk,  beneath  thy  cowl? 

Perdition  seize  thee  for  thy  tidings  foul! 


Return  no  more  again  to  France  and  me? 

At  hands  of  swarthy  Paynim  hosts  he  bled? 
His  fallen,  lifeless  body  thou  didst  see? 

Jesu  have  mercy!  Dead!  My  lord  is  dead! 
Thou  liest,  monk!  Ah,  pardon!  See,  I  kneel; 
My  heart  is  breaking,  and  my  brain  doth  reel! 


Bear  with  me,  father!     Nay,   thou  devilish  one, 

Why  carn'st  thou  here  to  strike  me  dead  with  woe  ? 

Turn  round  thy  face  and  see  what  thou  hast  done! 
Fling  back  that  cowl!     Thy  fateful  features  show! 

Why  hides t  thou  thy  face  ?     Alas,  I  rave— 

My  peerless  knight,  my  love,  is  in  the  grave! 

35 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Mother   diviiu',  support    me!     ()  sweet  Christ,  to  Thee 
A  stricken,   lonely  woman    here   doth   bow. 

Monk!      Monk!      What    Hashing   eyes  are   those    I    see? 
Stran-c  stature  ha>t  thou  gotten,  even  now! 

\\\a\  !      1    Tear  thee!      What!    in  armor  drest  ? 

l)car  lord,  my   husband,  take  me  to  thy  breast! 


IN  THE  CONFESSIONAL. 


IN  THE  CONFESSIONAL 


TTAVE  mercy  on  me,  Lord!     I  heard  a  voice 

*  *    That  searched  my  soul  and  badt  my  heart  rejoice. 

And  austere  thoughts  of  holy,  martyred  men, 
And  blessed  saints,  departed  from  me  then. 

Sure,  never  voice  so  softly  sweet  was  heard, 
So  like  the  morning  love-song  of  a  bird. 

My  life's  young  spring-time  waked  within  my  soul, 
While  years  of  penance  backward  seemed  to  roll, 

And  memory  bloomed  with  blossoms  of  a  day 
When  love  was  mine  and  life  was  careless  play, 

Such  quality  was  in  that  bird-like  tone 

To  wake  delicious  dreams  and  fancies  flown. 

The  low  confession  fell  upon  mine  ear, 

The  while  I  mused  and  scarcely  leaned  to  hear 

37 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

The  venial  sins  of  such  a  girlish  heart, 
Till,  at  one  word,  I  felt  my  pulses  start. 

That  word,  abominable,   dark  as  death, 
lake'  sudden  spectre  froze  my  scanty  breath. 

Then  soft  and  low  a  withering  story  came, 
That  seared  my  soul  as  with  the  touch  of  flame. 

She  told,  in  music  sweet  as  cadenced  rhyme, 
An  awful  tale  of  perfidy  and  crime. 

I  looked  to  see  from  whence  such  whispers  fell, 
What  writhing  lips  such  ghastly  tales  could  tell, 

And  saw  a  face  as  morning  fresh  and  fair, 
Framed  in  a  nimbus  soft  of  rippling  hair. 

absolvo  te.     My  heart  grew  sore 
With  love  and  pity.      Go,  and  sin  no  more. 

I  watched  her  from  the  chancel  trip  away, 
And   with  her  fled  the  beauty  of  the  day. 

A  cavalier,  bold-eyed,  stood  there,  and  she 
Let  slip  a  sidelong  glance  of  coquetry. 

Retro  Sathanas!     Dark  the  shadows  fall, 
Mother  of  God  on  thy  sweet  name  I  call. 

I  love  her,  love  her!     Hark  the  tolling  bell! 
Have  mercy  Jesu!     Save  rny  soul  from   hell! 

38 


FEUS. 


FELIS. 


DUSS,  curled  on  cushions,  so  demure  and  meek, 
*       Content,  luxurious,  satisfied  and  sleek, 
Thou  mindest  me  of  one  I  fain  would  seek 

Thou  art  so  placid  in  thy  robe  of  fur, 
So  sweet  the  music  of  thy  gentle  purr — 
Dear  puss,  I  fear  thou  dost  resemble  her. 

Such  dreamy  depths  are  in  thy  sleepy  eyes, 
So  like  the  wondrous  calm  of  summer  skies, 
They,  too,  remind  me  of  the  ones  I  prize. 

Thou  art  so  perfect,  supple,  and  so  still, 
Lazily  beautiful  when  thou  hast  thy  will, 
Soft,  smooth — yea,  sinister!  and  prone  to  kill. 

For  thou  hast  gifts  to  make  thy  lovers  quail; 
Powers  to  make  a  suitor's  spirit  fail; 
Latent  capacities  of  tooth  and  nail. 

39 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Like1   her?      I    know   not.      Puss,  resolve   to   me: 
What   if  a   IIIOUM-  enamored  was  of  thee, 

And   M)ii-lit    to   please   thee,   loving   copiously? 

Thou  wouldst  respond,  methinks  thy  purring  saith. 
With  low.  sweet  sounds  of  hot,  bewildering  breath, 
And,  at  the  end — a  sharp  and  cruel  death. 

I  am  no  mouse,  but  just  as  helpless  quite; 
Pauline,  with  eyes  serene  as  stars  at  night, 
Doth  fill  my  soul  with  fearful,  strange  delight. 

Such  thrills  roll  off  her  wealth  of  auburn  hair 
That  one  to  touch  its  tangles  should  beware; 
But,  O  my  soul!    she  is  most  marvelous  fair. 

So  great  the  mystery  of  her  glorious  eyes, 
Surh  unguessed  depth  her  beauty  underlies, 
That  yet  I  tremble,  fearing  some  surprise. 

In  manhood's  strength  I  stand,  yet  shaken  so 
With  memories  of  Pauline,  that  1  must  know 
Unheard  of  bliss,  or  unimagined  woe. 

And  ran  she  love?     Yea,  more  than  demons  hate! 
And  will  she  love?     Aye,  rarely,  soon  or  late! 
And  me?     I'll  go  and  read  that  riddle    straight. 


TATTING. 


TATTING. 


\1  7ITH  figure  demure,  and  downcast  face. 

And  a  tranquil  air  of  quiet  grace, 
Her  delicate  fingers  deftly  wrought 
A  pattern  as  fine  as  a  fairy's  thought, 
Tatting  that  day! 


O  maiden  fair,  with  the  silken  hair, 
And  the  shining  eyes  of  a  lustre  rare, 
What  abracadabra,  mysterious  spell 
Is  thy  flying  shuttle  weaving  so  well, 
Tatting  to-day? 


Ah,  sir,  I  work  to  have  my  way 
In  the  perfumed  air  of  a  gracious  day; 
My  nimble  fingers  are  weaving  a  snare 
To  entangle  human  hearts.     Beware 
Of  my  tatting  to-day! 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


So  the  lily  fingers,  entrancing,  flew, 
And  the  lustrous  eyes  were  heavenly  blue; 
And  the  silken  hair  was  shot  with  gold, 
And  down   in  a  golden  glory  rolled, 
Tatting  that  day. 


And  she  had  her  will  on  a  gracious  day, 
All  clad  in  a  cloud  of  white  array; 
And  I  bless  the  day  and  the  perfumed  air 
That  kissed  her  cheek  as  she  wove  her  snare, 
Tatting  that  day. 


VERONICA. 


VERONICA. 


Veronica,  Duchess  of  St.  Giuliann,  having  cause  for  jealousy,  sent  her  rival's 
head  to  her  husband  in  a  basket. — Florentine  History. 


s 


TAY,  Ctirzio!     Could'st  thou  find  it  in  thy  heart 

To  win  thy  lady's  favor  by  some  deed 
Bold,  dangerous  and  sudden;  such  a  part 
As  in  the  playing  doth  some  courage  need, 

And  nerve,  and — glittering  steel? 
My  Curzio!     Well  I  know  thee,  brave  and  leal! 


My  lord  the  Duke  of  late  hath  careless  grown; 

No  matter — it  is  naught.     He  hunts  to-day. 
Time  was — ah,  well!    his  pleasures  are  his  own. 

He  hath  perhaps  been  somewhat  more  than  gay- 
Gay,  said  I?     By  my  soul 
I  shall  requite  him  with  relentless  dole! 

43 


MASfC  AND  DO  Ml 

There  is  a  woman,  Curzio,  thin  and  white, 

With   i>oor,  moon  eyes  the  Duke  doth  deem  divine; 

And   hair  all   colorless  as  noonday   light  .... 
Ah,  thou  would'st  better  like  such  hair  as  mine! 
But  yet  he  Iwdh  her. 

By  heavens!  but  the  man  doth  greatly  err! 


I  care  not  any  whit  except  for  this: 

That  so  this  woman  trenches  on  my  state. 

I   have  no  (are  for  love's  sake,  certain  'tis 

I   hate  my  spouse  with  lavish,  wifely  hate..,. 
Curzio,  heed  not  these  sighs, 

But  thou  art  handsome  with  thy  dangerous  eyes, 


And  nervous  strength,  and  mouth  set  firm  and  square 
To  do  what  deeds  are  urgent.     Curzio,  mine, 

Methinks  thou  art  most  comely.     Now,  beware, 
Lest  high-born  ladies'  hearts  respond  to  thine 
And  peril  comes  thereby. 

Peril!    to  thee!    what  scorn  is  in  thine  eye! 


Dost  truly  like  me,  Curzio?     Well — perchance— 

Hut   yet  I  know  not — would'st   thou   serve-   me  well? 

Ah,  now  I  see  the  lightning  in  thy  glance! 

Thou  would'st,  for  me.  descend  through  gates  of  hell! 
Cur/io,   1   fain  would   know. 

Could  any  pallid  woman  stir  thee  so? 

44 


VERONICA. 

My  eyes  are  not  pale  moons  to  weep  withal! 

What  seest  thou  in   them,  so,  in  still  repose? 
Yea,  mighty  love  for  those  my  friends  I  call, 

And  hatred,  dark  and  deadly,  for  my  foes! 

And — listen — hand  on  sword! 
Murder,  my  Curzio!     Dost  thou  hear  the  word? 


That  woman — Kill  her!     Cut  me  off  her  head! 

Off  with  it  straight  and  bring  it  here  to  me! 
Pale,  ghastly,  grinning,  dripping,  splashed  with  red, 

What,  losel,  tremblest  thou?     Nay,  now  I  see 

Thou  has  the  nerve  to  slay! 
The  sooner  shalt  thou  conquer  love! — away! 


45 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


A   ROMANCE   OF  THE  JERSEYS. 


\\7HEN  Lord  Cornwallis  with  his  Hessians  came, 
*  *       (Beer-loving  warriors  in  coats  of  flame) 
To  overrun,  with  savage  war's  turmoil, 
New  Jersey's  sacred,  vermeil-tinted  soil; 
The  worthy  Dutchmen  (let  us  still  be  just, 
The  Hessians  only  came  because  they  must) 
Fought  but  half-hearted,  lackirfg  Rhenish  cheer; 
Three  thousand  miles  removed  from  lager  bier; 
Athirst  within  a  land  where  Ehret's  name 
Was  yet  unknown  to  hops  and  malt  and  fame: 
And  sought,  with  longings  vast,  a  beverage 
Their  drouthy  Teuton  cravings  to  assuage. 
They  found  one  drink  to  rest  their  souls  upon, 
Old-fashioned  Jersey  lightning — apple-John. 

Much  valor  lieth  in  a  glass  or  two 
Of  that  seductive  tap  of  golden  hue; 
Much  stupor  followeth  if  one,  unaware, 
Ahsorbeth  more  than   is  a  seemly  share. 
Ye  who  have  known   its  dear,  delusive  ways, 
Will  bear  me  witness  when  I  speak  its  praise. 

46 


A   ROMANCE    OF   THE   JERSEYS. 

A  small  detachment  of  Kniphausen's  corps, 

With  maiden  swords  as  yet  unsteeped  in  gore, 

Encamped  at  Bohnamtown  one  summer's  day, 

Fatigued  with  marching  on  a  dusty  way. 

And  after  nightfall,  two,  whose  throats  were  dry, 

Stole  through  the  picket-guards  their  luck  to  try; 

And  found,  by  dint  of  searching  carefully, 

A  puncheon  of  superior  V.  O.  P.: 

With  hearts  made  joyous  by  one  sample  sip, 

A  long,  preliminary,  generous  nip, 

They  started  campward,  jovial,  blithe  and  gay, 

The  moon's  pale  splendor  lighting  up  their  way. 

While  oft  was  heard  a  rippling  soft  and  low, 

A  gurgle,  gurgle,  like  a  streamlet's  flow. 


Smooth  was  the  liquor,  velvety  and  old, 

Its  fire  unguessed,  its  potency  untold. 

And  still  they  drank  until  the  moonlit  trees 

Began  to  caper  to  the  evening  breeze; 

The  virgin  moon  chasseed  in  wanton  guise; 

And  all  the  stars  shook  laughter  from  the  skies; 

The  road  grew  wavy,  then  uprose  to  meet 

The  highest  stepping  of  their  foolish  feet; 

And  all  creation  left  the  beaten  track, 

Responsive  to  the  spells  of  apple-jack. 

At  length  a  barn  they  spied,  and  through  the  door 

They  stumbled  in,  and  then  they  knew  no  more. 

The  solemn  Night  her  shadowy  flag  unfurled, 

And  slumber  fell  upon  the  silent  world. 

47 


MASK  AND   JHtMINO. 

The  hours  passed  by,  and  Morning,  bright  and  sweet, 

Came  down   the  eastern   hills  with   rosv   feel, 

But  still   the   Hessians  in   deep  stupor  lay, 

Nor  knew  what   beauty  garlanded  the  day; 

t'ntil,  at   length,  a   ringing   voice   was  heard 

Within   the  open   door,  at  which  they  stirred, 

And  woke,  with   many  a  stretch  and  many  a  yawn, 

To  find  their  muskets  and  their  trappings  gone. 

A  beardless  youth   they  saw  before  them  stand, 

With  mien   determined  and  with  gun  in  hand; 

A  beardless  youth  with  sunny  face  and  fair, 

I  Jut  with  a  fearless  eye  and  gallant  air; 

One  captured  musket  o'er  his  back  was  slung, 

While  from  his  shoulder  all  their  trappings  hung. 


"Arise,  base  hirelings  of  a  tyrant  king!" 

"Eh? — Nein! — Ve  shust  stay  here  like  aferyding." 

"Arise  at  once!"     The  tone  was  resolute — 

"Oh,  veil,  dots  all  right  oph  you  dond  geshoot." 

"You  are  my  prisoners!"     Scarce  the  merry  youth 

Could  check  his  laughter  at  the  scene  uncouth; 

The  easy-tempered  Deutschers,  half  asleep, 

Their  lazy  panic  and  there  deference  deep— 

"Your  brizners,  eh?     Mein  cracious!    iss  dot  zo? 

Und  vare  you  wants,  mein  lieber,  dot  ve  go?" 

"Come  forth  at  once!"     "Oh,  ya! — ve  come  hereowet?" 

.  come  '  hereowet '  quickly !     Face  about ! 
Now,  forward  march!"   and  off  the  prisoners  went, 
While  close  behind,  to  hasten  and  torment, 

48 


A   ROMANCE   OF   THE   JERSEYS. 

The  prodding  bayonet  in  the  captor's  hand 
Brought  quick  assent  to  every  sharp  demand. 

The  road  was  dusty  and  the  journey  long; 
The  sun's  bright,  morning  rays  grew  fierce  and  strong; 
And  such  strange,  Hessian  oaths  were  heard  that  day, 
That  delicate  wild-flowers  growing  by  the  way, 
And  violets  blue,  that  graced  the  green  road-side, 
Hung  their  sweet  heads  in  horror,  drooped  and  died, 
Withered  by  words  too  awful  for  belief; 
I  would  repeat  them  but  my  page  is  brief. 

At  noon  that  day  young  Captain  Parker  stood 

Within  the  grateful  shadow  of  a  wood, 

Surrounded  by  his  patriot  company, 

Standing  at  ease  in  groups  of  two  and  three; 

The  while  he  questioned  of  the  youth  who  brought 

The  Hessian  prisoners,  how  the  men  were  caught. 

The  simple  story  in  few  words  was  told; 

The  speaker  fearless,  but  not  over  bold; 

The  color  mantling  on  his  smooth  young  face, 

His  fine  eyes  sparkling  with  a  lurking  trace 

Of  mirth  he  seemed  unwilling  to  betray; 

And,  at  the  end,  he  turned  his  face  away; 

A  little  bashful  as  he  met  the  gaze 

Of  Parker's  eye,  and  heard  his  words  of  praise. 

"You  have  done  well!"    the  gallant  Captain  said. 
The  youth  made  no  reply  but  bowed  his  head. 

49 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

"And  you  shall  be  a  soldier,  sir,  and  face 
The.se   hireling  c-aitilTs  of  an   alien    race 
On   fields  of  battle,  'mid  the  stirring  strife 
That  wakes  heroic  souls  to  glorious  life! 
Our  country,  in  her  hour  of  peril,  needs 
lirave   hearts  like  yours  to  execute  brave  deeds. 
Promotion  waits  you  in  my  company,— 
What  say  you,  sir,  and  will  you  serve  with  me?" 

The  youth  seemed  puzzled.     O'er  his  face  a  tide 
Of  crimson  rushed.     "I  cannot!"  he  replied. 
"You  cannot?"     On  the  Captain's  face  a  frown 
Grew  dark.     The  trembling  youth  looked  down; 
Then  turned  distressed,  as  seeking  other  aid; 
Then  flamed  the  fa'sehood  forth:    "I  am  afraid!" 
The  Captain's  bold,  black  eyes  were  full  of  scorn: 
•Afraid!     A  word  of  utter  baseness  born! 
Then,  sir,  take  off  those  brave  accoutrements! 
Off  with  them  straight!     I  will  have  no  pretence, 
Nor  see  a  soldier's  trappings  so  disgraced, 
Upon  the  shoulders  of  a  coward  placed!" 

The  youth   recoiled  as  smitten  with  a  blow, 
And   from  his  handsome  face  the  ruddy  glow 

led  to  deathly  pallor,  and  his  eyes 
Filled  with  hot  tears  of  anger  and  surprise. 
With  hasty,  trembling,  unaccustomed  hands, 
Hr  tore  away  the  hateful  belts  and  bands; 
And  panting  with  a  passionate   unrest. 


A   ROMANCE    OF   THE   JERSEYS. 

Faced  round  with  flashing  eyes  and  heaving  breast. 
What  shade  has  fallen  on  Captain  Harry's  face? 
'Tis  he  that  now  seems  stricken  with  disgrace. 

A  moment's  silence,  while  no  sound  was  heard 

Save  the  soft  twittering  of  a  heedless  bird; 

Then  Captain  Harry  fell  upon  his  knee, 

And  dofFd  his  hat  in  all  humility; 

And  shamed  through  all  his  soul  he  could  but  say: 

"Your  pardon,  mistress,  at  your  feet  I  lay 

The  homage  of  a  soldier,  rude  and  blind, 

Who  yet  knows  how  to  honor  womankind." 

It  matters  not  to  tell  what  more  was  said: 
It  is  one  hundred  years  since  they  were  wed. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


MASK  AND   DOMINO. 


IRENE   DA   VENTIM1GLIA   AND   THE   DUCHESS   MORELLA. 


M 


Y  lady  Irene  thou  art  wan  to-night, 

And  yet,  but  now,  beneath  thy  domino, 
Mcthought  thine  eyes  were  marvelously  bright. 
1  did  not  think  to  find  thee  trembling  so; 

Come,  come,  take  heart  of  grace— 
What!     Dreadest  thou  to  see  a  woman's  face? 


A  man's  would  suit  thee  best!     Well,  I  did  think 
A  little  frolic  would  have  plagued  thee  naught; 

I  did  not  look  to  see  thee  wince  and  shrink 
At  my  unmasking.     Tell  me  now  thy  thought: 
Doth  not  this  page's  u< 

Of  blood-red  crimson   well  become   me,  dear? 

5* 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Still  pale  and  silent?     What  strange  thing  is  this? 

These  are  my  lord's  apartments,  and  I  think 
Somewhere  there  must  be  wine.     Ah  yes,  here  't  is. 
These  tears  of  Christ  will  help  thee.     Sweetheart, 

drink! 

Let  us  be  merry,  dear, 
In  Lachryma  Christi  drown  each  doubt  and  fear. 

How  I  did  fool  thee,  child!     Forgive  my  glee. 
I  cannot  choose  but  laugh ....     'T  was  writ  this 

way: 

"Irene,  my  sweet,  one  waits  who  worships  thee, 
And  this  the  token:     Love  me,  love,  I  pray!" 

Now  was  it  not  so  writ? 
What  chance  did  favor  me  in  guessing  it? 

O,  thou  coquette!     Thou  sly,  demure  coquette! 

Nay,  sweet  Marchesa,  I  condemn  thee  not. 
I  am  myself  no  prude,  and  yet — and  yet — 

No  sin  is  quite  so  sinful  till  found  out. 

It  is  one  thing  to  sin, 
It  is  another  to  be  caught  therein. 

Oh,  I  have  noted  how  my  lord  of  late 

Hath  sued  thy  favor — but  I  count  it  naught; 

'Tis  what  we  look  for  in  the  marriage  state — 
Is't  not,  Marchesa?     Dost  thou  sorrow  aught 
When  thy  good  lord  doth  stray? 

Thou  dost  not  fret,  I  warrant.     Well-a-day! 

53 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

I  do  remember — laughable  it  seems — 

How  once  the  Duke— ha!    ha!— did  swear  to  me 
That  my  blue  eyes  were  brighter  than  bright  dreams; 

But,  faith,  it  was  but  lover's  gallantry, 

For  now  he  doth  entreat 
Thy  twilight  hair  and  dusk  eyes  darkly  sweet. 


Art  ill,  dear  friend?     Dost  feel  the  need  of  air? 

I'll  throw  this  casement  open  to  the  night.  .  .  . 
'Tis  strange  how  men  do  value  eyes  and  hair! 

So! — Is  not  yon  fair  planet  wondrous  bright? 

What  mournful  sounds  prevail! 
Is  it  the  moonlight  makes  thee  look  so  pale? 


How  lovely  is  the  moon's  serene,  sweet  face! 

No  woman  hath  such  beauty,  yet,  alway, 
Men  have  no  eyes  for  aught  but  woman's  grace; 

Strange,  is  it  not?     And,  stranger  still,  to-day 

The  face  they  loveliest  call, 
To-morrow  hath  no  loveliness  at  all. 


What  wretched  creatures  we — that  live  to  make 
The  sport  of  men ;  and  each  new  lover  seems 
Too  fond  and  true  a  loving  heart  to  break; 

Then  comes  the  day  that  shatters  all  our  dreams, 

And,  at  the  bitter  end, 
We  learn  to  hate  each  lover  and  earh  friend. 

54 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Look  out  upon  the  hushed  and  breathless  night. 

The  tranquil  stars  alone  are  always  true. 
What's  this?     A  storm  has  quenched  their  steadfast 

light. 
That  flash  was  fearful!      See,  the  lights  burn  blue. 

'Tis  ominous,  my  dear, 
This  sudden,  dreadful  storm — hast  thou  no  fear? 


Marchesa,  dearest,  surely  thou  art  ill! 

That  wine  has  hurt  thee?     Is  it  so?     Alas! 
Fool!     I  did  give  it  thee  with  right  good  will! 

With  mine  own  hand  I  did  prepare  that  glass! 

'Twill  do  its  work  full  well! 
'Twill  send  thee  straight  to  heaven,  my  dear — or  hell! 


Aha!     My  time  has  come!     I  am  his  wife! 

I  am  the  woman  that  he  swore  to  love! 
And,  traitress,  thou  dost  pay  me  with  thy  life 

For  this  intrigue!     Yea,  by  the  saints  above, 

Thy  life  is  small  requite 
For  all  the  hate  I've  smothered  till  this  night! 

That  letter — 't  was  the  Duke's!— and  this  the  place 
The  treacherous  schemer  for  a  trysting  gave! 

Yea,  writhe  and  moan  and  hide  thy  livid  face! 
And  die,  and  rot  in  a  dishonored  grave! 
He'll  find  thee  here  anon 

A  festering  corpse,  thou  wanton — ah!   she's  gone! 

55 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


DECORATION   DAY. 


COMRADES,  the  time  seems  far  away 
^-*     That  saw  us  marshaled  for  the  fray, 
And  dim  the  memory  of  that  day, 

Like  an  old  story; 

For  peace  hath  conflicts  year  by  year, 
That  waste  the  soul  and  scar  and  sear, 
And  some  of  us  are  maimed,  I  fear, 
Yet  miss  the  glory. 


And  it  is  well,  as  swift  years  flee, 

To  fan  the  flame  of  memory, 

And  sometimes  call  to  mind  that  we, 

Mid  cannon's  rattle, 

In  those  dark  days  of  doubt  and  gloom, 
Defied  the  shadow  of  the  tomb, 
Fronted   the  thunder  and   the  doom, 

And  marched  to  battle. 
56 


DECORA  TION  DA  Y. 

Amid  the  cares  that  weigh  us  down, 
Let  us,  for  once,  put  on  the  crown, 
And  claim  the  glory  and  renown, 

And  proudly  claim  it: 
Once  we  were  heroes!     Let  us  be 
Stronger  to  meet  adversity, 
More  faithful  to  that  memory, 

Nor  ever  shame  it. 


So  shall  the  fortunate1  ones  who  fell 
Be  honored  more  and  honored  well, 
With  whiter  wreaths  of  immortelle, 

And  worthier  mourning. 
But  yet  we  are  not  mourners — nay, 
We  strew  their  graves  with  flowers  to-day, 
With  brightest  blossoms  of  the  May, 

A  brave  adorning. 


No  cypress  leaves,  no  weeds  of  woe, 

No  solemn  funeral  dirges  slow, 

No  anguished  moaning,  sad  and  low, 

No  passionate  weeping; 
But  with  glad  hearts  and  hands  we  bring 
These  splendors  of  the  wakened  spring, 
Their  fame  alone  remembering, 

Their  laurels  keeping. 

57 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Bring  flowers,  then,  and  every  year 
Renew  these  memories  strong  and  clear, 
And  teach  your  children  to  revere 

The  golden  story; 
Nor  let  them  ever  turn  away 
From  graves  of  gallant  boys  in  gray, 
Brave  foes  they  were — their  tombs  array 

With  equal  glory. 


THE  INDICATOR. 


THE   INDICATOR. 


A  SONG,  a  psalm,  an  upward  note, 
A  rapid,  joyous  click!   click!   click! 

And  click!   click!   click! 
As  animated,  full,  and  quick, 
As  any  trill  from  thrush's  throat, 
And  up  the  bubbles  rise  and  float. 

What  song  is  this  the  siren  sings, 

That  charms  the  fishes  in  the  sea? 
That  from  the  fragrant  meadow  brings 

The  lambs  that  gambol  friskily? 
A  tuneless  song,  but  oh,  how  strong 
To  gather  hearers  short  and  long, 
And  fill  the  sails  of  yonder  boat, 
And  make  the  bubbles  rise  and  float! 

The  tide  is  rising,  get  on  board! 
The  wind  is  blowing  fair; 

59 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

The  crew  are  all  of  one  accord, 

To  sail  a  glittering  land   toward. 
Come,  faithful  souls,  and  get  on  board! 

The  dapper  crew,  so  debonair, 
Are  very  sure,  extremely  sure, 
The  pleasant  weather  will  endure. 

Oh,  what  a  ship!     Her  silken  sails 

Are  swept  along  by  perfumed  gales; 

Her  merry  crew,  the  long  day  through, 
Make  much  ado,  and  dance  and  sing; 

For  on  a  little  way  before 

There  lies  a  golden,  glittering  shore. 
Clap  hands,  and  make  the  welkin  ring, 
Ye*  merry  crew,  carouse  and  sing! 

But  saw  ye  not,  oh  blind,  blind,  blind, 

The  wolfish  faces  left  behind? 

***** 

A  change  of  tone!  a  click! — click! — click! 
Slow-dropping  like  a  death-watch  tick; 
A  dismal,  gloomy  click! — click! — click! 

Whereat  the  radiant  atmosphere 
Assumes  a  livid,  sickly  hue, 
And  droops  in  ragged  fringes  blue; 
A  tone  that  scares  the  lambs  at  play, 
And  sends  them  scurrying  far  away 
To  safety  on  the  upland  KM. 
And  frights  the  fishes  in  the  sea; 
Then  sullen  waves  their  fronts  uprear, 
And  bubbles  break  and   disappear. 


THE  INDICATOR. 

Ah,  where  the  ship  that  sailed  away 
For  golden  shores,  with  streamers  gay, 
And  merry  crew  who  surely  knew 
That  summer  skies  were  always  blue? 
Ah,  waves  that  roll,  and  winds  that  moan, 
And  broken  spars  that  creak  and  groan! 
And  drowning  men,  on  billows  high, 
Who  turn  white  faces  to  the  sky! 


61 


AND  I'UMINO. 


A   KISS. 


A  H,  rosebud  mouth,  for  kisses  made, 
«*    And  are  you  not  the  least  afraid? 
And  do  you  know,  my  little  one, 
What  mischief  kisses  sweet  have  done? 
O'er  all  the  world  and  through  all  time, 
In  every  age  and  every  clime, 
Men  have  kissed  women's  mouths,  and  still, 
Through  every  coming  age  they  will, 
While  rolls  the  world  the  ether  through. 
What  then?     That  should  I  not  tell  you. 


I  love  you,  darling,  but  I  know 
What  way  the  summer  zephyrs  blow. 
And  you  love  me,  but  in  your  heart 
Love  sitteth,  pensive  and  apart, 
Demure,  serene,  and  lost  in  dreams 
Of  all  that  is  and  all  that  seems, 
You  know  not  even  why  it  is 
That  you  are  startled  by  a  kiss. 
62 


A   KISS. 

But  I,  a  veteran,  scarred  and  worn, 
On  battle  surges  tossed  and  torn, 
And  scorched  by  passion's  fiery  breath; 
I  that  have  been  play-mate  with  death, 
And  mocked  the  heavy  hand  of  fate, 
And  plumbed  the  depths  of  love  and  hate; 
I  know,  my  little,  star-eyed  miss, 
Why  devils  laugh  when  mortals  kiss. 


Alas,  and  who  shall  count  the  cost 
Of  human  souls,  for  love's  sake  lost? 
For  peasant's  hut,  and  kingly  crown, 
And  rural  dell,  and  stately  town, 
And  vineyards  ripening  in  the  sun, 
And  kingdoms  by  the  strong  arm  won, 
And  armies  marshalled  for  the  fray, 
Have  been  o'erthrown  and  swept  away, 
Betrayed  and  wrecked  and  lost  for  this 
The  heedless  harvest  of  a  kiss. 


Nathless,  but  there  is  loss  and  gain ; 
And  oft  a  kiss  hath  banished  pain, 
And  dowered  the  world  with  splendid  light> 
And  flushed  the  day  with  beauty  bright, 
And  bade  the  earth  and  sea  and  sky 
Take  rapturous  heed  that  heaven  is  nigh; 
And  since  the  first,  sad  soul  was  lost, 
Not  one  has  stopped  to  count  the  cost. 
63 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

What  then?     Why  then  I  kiss  you  dear, 

And  kiss  away  that  trembling  tear. 

What  need   for  me  to  say,  my  sweet, 

What  serpents  sting  unwary  feet? 

If  storms  are  gathering  let  them  break; 

Yea,  if  the  starry  heavens  quake, 

Ami  suns  are  quenched,  and  if  the  world 

To  crashing  ruin  should  be  hurled, 

On  verge  of  vast  eternity 

1M  kiss  you,  kiss  you,  what  care  we? 


PORTRAIT  OR  SPECTRE? 


PORTRAIT  OR  SPECTRE? 


NAY,  why  that  look  of  cold  distrust?     I  vow, 
One  might  believe  that  on  my  gloomy  brow 
A  threat  hung  scowling.     Put  away  thy  fear, 
For  not  a  thought  of  mischief  brings  me  here; 
And  what  thou  seest  is  but  Care's  black  mark 
Writ  on  my  face  by  sorrows  deep  and  dark. 
Is  Joy  thy  playmate  that  thou  canst  not  see 
Grief's  pallor  without  shrinking  timidly?  • 


Painter,  I  have  great  need  to  try  thy  skill. 
It  may  be  that  thou  canst  assuage  my  ill  * 
By  painting  for  me,  with  thy  deftest  touch, 
A  woman's  portrait.     Certes,  it  is  much! 
A  woman,  but  her  beauty  so  supreme 
Thou  shouldst  have  power  to  illustrate  a  dream- 
Was  e'er  caprice  to  so  much  passion  wed? — 
Sittings?     I  told  thee,  painter,  she  is  dead! 
65 


M.-IS1C  AND  DOAflNO. 

Yes,  she  is  dead — but  if  it  were  not  so 
Her  perfect  features  thou  could'st  never  show. 
But  wake  thy  soul  and  search  for  some  fine  thing; 
Paint  thou  the  shimmer  of  an  angel's  wing; 
Or  some  rare  gem  outflashing  all  the  East, 
Guarded  and  worshipped  by  some  fabled  beast; 
Paint  any  bright,  bewildering  mystery, 
It  shall  resemble  her  in  some  degree. 


Paint  an  idea.     This  the  scene  in  brief: 

A  vast,  wide  plain,  more  desolate  than  grief; 

A  cold,  pale  star,  set  brilliantly  on  high; 

A  flash  of  lightning  hissing  through  the  sky; 

A  pale  aurora  rising  to  the  view, 

With  splendors  of  Vesuvius  shining  through — 

Alas!   there  is  no  pertinence  in  these, 

At  best  they  are  but  bare  realities. 


Paint  me  a  sign  of  Hope  or  Faith  or  Death; 
The  things  whereto  men  cling  with  latest  breath; 
A  saint,  white-stoled  and  pointing  to  the  skies; 
A  serpent,  with  enchanting,  subtle  eyes- 
Stay,  paint  a  woman!     All  else  would  be  in  vain, 
These  but  the  signs  and  symbols  of  her  reign; 
A  woman,  tender,  passionate  and  true — 
Aye,  there's  the  doubtful  point!     Would  God  I  knew. 

66 


PORTRAIT  OR  SPECTRE? 

I  will  describe  her,  painter.     Take  thy  stand 

And  with  swift  touches  paint  as  I  command. 

Draw  an  interior — listen  to  me  well — 

And  paint  a  form  more  fair  than  words  can  tell, 

A  shape  exquisite,  of  a  dainty  grace, 

And  paint  a  beautiful,  perilous,  treacherous  face 

Grown  ghastly  with  a  sudden,  white  surprise 

To  see  her  lover  slain  before  her  eyes! 


Stay,  stay;  go  not!     These  idle  dreams  are  naught, 
Her  memory  doth  disturb  and  shake  my  thought; 
And  strange,  wild  fancies  from  my  sorrows  grow, 
The  very  sky  is  draped  with  weeds  of  woe; 
The  world  is  darkened  with  a  pall  of  ills, 
And  pale  Remorse  sits  brooding  on  the  hills. 
Thou  canst  not  serve  me!     Nothing  will  atone! 
My  passion,  grief  and  madness  are  mine  own! 


67 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


REASON  AND   FAITH. 


'T'HY  love  lies  there  and  cannot  rise, 

A  film  upon  her  frozen  eyes, 
And  stark  and  cold  her  beauty  rare, 
And  all  her  silky  ringlets  fair 
Are  naught  but  lifeless  tufts  of  hair. 
Weep,  weep  and  moan! 


My  love  looks  down  from  Paradise 
With  comfort  in  her  pitying  eyes, 
My  love,  my  own! 


Thy  love  is  dead;  cold,  pale  and  still, 
In  coffined  silence  white  and  chill; 
And  all  that  lieth  here  to-day 
Shall  soon  forever  pass  away; 
Nor  yet  in  heaven  or  earth  shall  stay 
One  vestige  dim. 

68 


REASON  AND  FAITH. 

My  love  shall  walk  in  heavenly  ways, 
And  sing  glad  songs  of  love  and  praise 
Mid  seraphim. 


Thou  fool!     This  mechanism  fine, 
Like  delicate  flower  or  clustering  vine, 
Doth  cease  to  work  and  that  is  all; 
The  stately,  spreading  palm  shall  fall, 
Thou,  too,  shalt  answer  to  the  call, 
And  all  is  sped. 


Oh  thou  sweet  spirit,  wandering  far, 
I  would  I  knew  to  what  fair  star 
Thy  soul  hath  fled. 


Thy  faith  and  hope  are  phantasy; 
Dumb  nature  laughs  and  pities  thee; 
The  faith  thy  poor  self-love  requires, 
The  hope  thy  vanity  inspires 
Of  after  life  and  angel  choirs, 
Are  vain,  all  vain. 


Oh  love,  methinks  I  feel  thee  near. 
Is  thy  dear  presence  hovering  here, 
To  ease  my  pain? 
69 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Thy  dog  hath  faculties  like  thine 
In  less  degree  of  clear  and  fine; 
The  same  machinery  doth  wake 
His  duller  thought;  hath  he  no  stake 
In  heavenly  bliss  or  burning  lake 
Beyond  the  skies? 


I  know  not  who  thou  art,  I  know 
My  love  waits  for  me  in  the  glow 
Of  Paradise. 


I  am  pure  Reason,  swift  and  bright 
To  chase  the  phantom  shades  of  night. 
Awake,  thou  dreamer!    rise  and  be 
Erect  and  helpful,  strong  and  free, 
Nor  wave  arms  to  Eternity 
In  hopeless  plaint! 


Oh  love,  my  love,  I  see  thee  there, 
Triumphant,  holy,  calm  and  fair, 
A  ransomed  saint! 


LOVE'S  WORLD. 


LOVE'S   WORLD. 


"  Love  builds  triumphal  arches  on  desert  sands." 


E  sat  upon  the  yellow  sands 

With  tremulous  hearts  and  clinging  hands, 
The  while,  from  far  off  foreign  lands, 
The  billows  rolled— behold !    behold! 
The  sea,  a  merchant  brave  and  bold, 
Hath  brought,  oh  bounteous,  great  sea, 
Such  treasures  to  my  love  and  me! 


A  splendor  of  seraphic  hue, 
O'erhung  with  heaven's  imperial  blue, 
Dreams,  messages  and  fancies  new, 
A  flood  of  light,  soft,  warm  and  bright, 
A  dream  of  sensuous,  dear  delight, 
A  dream,  oh  shimmering,  shining  sea, 
Of  empire  for  my  love  and  me. 
7* 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

The  world  is  ours  Love  seems  to  say. 

Oh   world,  thou   hast   been  given   away 
By  lavish  Love,  this  perfect  day. 
No  soul  is  nigh  to  make  reply, 
Alone  with  earth  and  sea  and  sky! 
What  message  from  the  isles,  oh  sea? 
What  tidings  for  my  love  and  me? 


What  tidings  from  the  northern  seas, 
Where  curdling  billows  roll  and  freeze, 
And  white  death  lurks  in  every  breeze; 
And  cold  and  green,  in  icy  sheen, 
The  bergs  lift  frozen  fronts  serene, 
Like  gravestones  o'er  thy  grave,  oh  sea? 
Nay,  keep  this  from  my  love  and  me. 


Nor  tell  us  of  thy  stormy  days, 
When,  through  the  swirling,  watery  ways, 
The  ghosts  of  drowned  men  upraise 
Their  faces  white,  aghast  with  fright, 
On  threshold  of  the  realms  of  night. 
Tell  not,  oh  ravenous,  cruel  sea, 
Such  tidings  to  my  love  and  me. 


But  of  the  odorous  Indian  isles, 

Where  earth,  a  scented  nymph,  beguiles 

With  shining  tears  or  glittering  smiles 


LOVE'S  WORLD. 


To  dance  and  song,  or  dalliance  long, 
Or  passions  swift  and  dark  and  strong. 
Come  whisper,  oh  thou  tell-tale  sea, 
Romances  to  my  love  and  me. 


And  tell  of  blue  waves  tossed  and  curled, 
Wherethrough,  with  snowy  wings  unfurled, 
Brave  ships  go  sailing  down  the  world; 
Each  dipping  prow,  with  courtly  bow 
Saluting  thee,  a  monarch  thou, 
Whose  kingdom,  at  our  feet,  oh  sea, 
Ends  here    before  my  love  and  me. 


Oh,  thou  great  wanderer,  bold  and  free! 

Thou  hidest  many  a  mystery, 

And  desperate  deeds  thou  dost  decree; 

But  Love,  to-day,  in  wanton  play, 

Thou  knowest  hath  given  the  world  away; 

And  so  thou  crawlest  here,  oh  sea, 

Submissive  to  my  love  and  me. 


73 


AfASK  AND  DOMINO. 


APOTHEOSIS. 


IN  dream  or  waking  revery, 

I  know  not  which  it  chanced  to  be. 
Or  flash  of  vivid  prophecy, 

I  soared  afar 
Beyond  the  farthest,  burning  star. 

Before  a  glory  white  and  great, 
Two  souls,  unwitting  of  their  fate, 
Knelt  down  in  silence  to  await 

What  dread  decree 
Might  shape  their  long  eternity. 

And  kindly  death  who  brought  them  there, 
A  presence  noble,  calm  and  fair, 
With  shadows  in  his  twilight  hair, 

Dropt  into  space 
With  lifted  eyes  and  tranquil  face. 

74 


APOTHEOSIS. 

No  word  the  perfect  silence  broke, 
No  flashing  wing,  no  pinion's  stroke; 
No  seraph's  hymn  the  far  depths  woke, 

But  hovering  there 
An  expectation  filled  the  air. 

The  one  was  visaged  like  to  those 
Who  calmly  face  unnumbered  foes, 
Who  suffer  unimagined  woes, 

And  rise  above 
All  chains  of  sense  for  faith  or  love. 

She  spoke:    "I  loved,  and  this  my  woe 

I  had  so  little  to  bestow; 

But  what  I  had  I  gave,  and  so, 

I  sinned  and  died. 
I  would  have  given  worlds  beside. 

I  gave  myself,  my  life,  my  soul, 

My  hope  of  heaven;   I  gave  the  whole 

For  my  love's  sake — a  piteous  dole. 

I  am  content 
To  suffer  my  due  punishment." 

The  other  was  of  feebler  make, 

Of  those  unknown  to  sword  or  stake, 

For  whom  no  storms  of  passion  break. 

Who  never  sound 
The  fiery  depths  of  souls  profound. 

75 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Trembling  she  said:    "I  loved  him,  too, 
And  faithfully,  nor  ever  knew 
What  love  forbidden  dares  to  do, 

For  we  were  wed; 
Judge  then  between  us  twain,"  she  said. 

"Nay,  judge  not!"   was  the  other's  cry, 

"But  on  thy  mercy  we  rely." 

She  ceased,  the  glory  filled  the  sky, 

While  all  around 
The  silent  spaces  woke  to  sound. 

And  suddenly,  with  beauty  rare, 
The  upturned  faces  grew  more  fair; 
Transfigured  from  the  hue  of  care 

To  radiance  bright, 
Both  crowned  with  equal  crowns  of  light 

And  shining  shapes,  with  pinions  fleet, 
The  pardoned  spirits  thronged  to  greet; 
While  floating  upward,  faintly  sweet 

To  listening  ears, 
Came  music  from  the  whispering  spheres. 


AN  ANTIENT  LEGEND,  ETC. 


AN   ANTIENT   LEGEND 


OF   THE    KNIGHT    OF    DORNE,    THE    BLACK    STEED,    AND   THE 
LADYE    IN   GREEN   AND   CRIMSON. 


THE  Knight  of  Dome  prickt  forth  one  summer's  day 
For  to  adventure  in  a  certain  wood, 
Wherein  he  wote  that  he  perchance  might  slay 
Some  necromancing  dwarf  or  dragon's  brood. 
For  Rumor  had  it  that  a  hermit  old 
Who  dwelt  thereby  of  such  like  things  had  told. 


Gaily  he  rode,  rejoicing  in  the  sight 

Of  earth  and  sky  which  pleasant  were  to  see. 

The  old  earth,  now,  hath  grown  less  fair  and  bright, 
And  woxen  gray  and  somber;   and,  pardie, 

Ne  dames  (save  one)  are  lovely  now  as  then, 

Nor  shall  we  see  thilk  good  old  times  agen. 

77 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

daily  he  rode;   the  birds  had  wot  of  it, 

And  twittered  of  him  in  a  merry  wise; 
(For  then  both  birds  and  beasts  had  ampler  wit,) 

Quod  they:  "What  doth  the  Knight  of  Dome  emprise?" 
"He  goeth  on  some  knightly  quest  I  weet." 
So  each  to  other  sang  with  chirpings  sweet. 


Whenas  unto  the  forest's  marge  he  drew, 

A  squirrel,  chattering,  seemed  to  bid  him  stay; 

(For  even  squirrels  then  some  wisdom  knew;) 
Eftsones  a  stag,  great-antlered,  barred  his  way, 

But  when  the  knight  came  near,  forthby  he  fled, 

But  threw  back  warning  glances  as  he  sped. 


Anon  an  owl,  day-blind,  went  hooting  by, 
To  seek  the  dark  shade  of  a  bosky  dell; 

And  then  a  raven  with  a  hoarse,  sad  cry, 
Beseeming  of  misfortune  to  foretell, 

With  black  wing  cleft  the  shadowy  spaces  dim 

Of  that  wide  forest  with  its  secrets  grim. 


But  all  unweeting  of  these  portents  ill, 

The  knight  rode  on  into  the  middle  wood; 

When  so  it  fortuned  that  the  air  grew  still, 
And  dark  clouds  gathered  o'er  the  solitude, 

Presaging  thunder;   then  the  fearless  knight 

Beheld  a  wondrous  and  a  lovely  sight. 


AN  ANTIENT  LEGEND,  ETC. 

A  great,  black,  mettled  steed  with  flaming  eyes, 
Whereon  there  sat  the  semblaunt  of  a  may, 

With  dainty  limbs  and  eyes  like  summer  skies, 
And  hair,  gold-hewen,  lightly  blown  astray; 

Untressed  it  shone  in  tangled  splendor  sweet; 

A  gown  of  green  fell  shimmering  o'er  her  feet. 


A  crimson  hood  had  slippen  from  her  brows, 
And  gave  to  view  her  parfit  loveliness; 

Her  neck,  ne  wimpled,  rivalled  northern  snows, 
Its  hidden  wonders  weren  rare  to  guess; 

Her  fiery  steed  she  managed  with  a  touch, 

The  good  knight  at  her  beauty  marvelled  much. 


"Beau  sire,"  she  said,  "It  steads  me  well  to  see 
Thy  valorous  presence  in  this  shadowy  place. 

I  have  been  mured  in  sad  capt4vity, 

From  whennes  I  am  escaped  by  Godys  grace; 

And  eke  been  holpen  by  this  noble  steed, 

Who  gave  me  good  deliverance  in  my  need. 


"Let  me  rest  here,  sith  I  aweary  be, 

And  rede  thee  all  my  mournful  tale."     With  that 
She  gat  her  to  the  ground  full  lissomely, 

And  down  upon  a  mossy  bank  ysat; 
Her  champing  steed  stood  by  her,  black  as  night, 
The  other  charger  ramped  and  raged  with  fright. 

79 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

And  when  for  courtesy  the  knight  gat  down, 

His  trembling  horse  did  break  from  him  and  fly; 

But  the  sweet  ladye  charmed  away  his  frown; 
Quod  she:    "What  doth  it  matter?     Thou  and  I 

Can  ride  where'er  thou  wilt  upon  my  steed, 

And  doubt  not  we  shall  make  suffisaunt  speed." 


Then  in  that  silent  forest's  twilight  air 
She  told  her  tale,  and  with  the  witchery 

Of  three  enchantments  she  bewitched  him  there; 
Three  spells  she  had  of  potent  glamoury. 

The  storm  meanwhile,  which  erst  had  swept  afar, 

Came  rolling  nearer  on  its  gloomy  car. 


The  spell  of  starry  eyes  ywroughten  well, 
A  voice  that  charmed  with  rippling  melody, 

The  malefice  of  touches  soft,  that  fell 

From  rosy  fingers,  these  her  witcheries  three; 

And  strangely  sweet  and  soverainly  were  they 

To  lead  that  brave  and  simple  soul  astray. 


And  sure  his  stainless  knighthood  had  been  lost, 
But  heaven's  good  grace  prevailed  to  succor  him; 

The  storm  broke  forth,  on  driving  whirlwinds  tost, 
And  blinding  flashes  lit  the  forest  dim. 

Ho!    ho!    by  this  the  knight  of  Dome  hath  seen 

A  cloven  foot  beneath  her  gown  of  green! 

80 


AN  ANTIENT  LEGEND,  ETC. 

He  rose  in  wrath.     Her  face  had  woxen  white, 
Beneath  the  fierce  glare  of  the  angry  skies; 

Reason  and  sense  returned  unto  the  knight; 
Out  flashed  his  sword,  upliften  meteor-wise, 

A  dolorous  stroke  he  fetched,  with  thunderous  frown, 

And  swift  he  clave  her  through  the  middle  down. 


Ladye  and  steed  yvanished  in  a  flame; 

When  lo!    the  smile  returned  to  nature's  face; 
The  good  knight's  charger  toward  him  trotting  came, 

And  gruefully  he  turned  and  left  that  place. 
Betid  that  as  he  mused  before  him  stood 
In  sober  guise  the  hermit  of  the  wood: 


To  whom  he  told  the  tale.     The  hermit  said: 

"My  son,  by  help  of  heaven  thou  hast  done  well. 

That  charmeresse,  by  cozening  seemly-head, 

Hath  lured  full  many  a  wight  to  death  and  hell. 

This  learn  and,  knowing,  let  them  pass  afar, 

Crimson  and  green  the  devil's  colors  are." 


So  runs  the  legend,  dim  with  centuries'  dust; 

The  Knight  of  Dome  achieved  a  mighty  name, 
And  did  great  deeds  in  many  a  merry  joust, 

But  doubtful  is  the  record  of  his  fame; 
His  day  was  so  remote  and  far  away, 
That  what  his  ending  was  I  cannot  say. 

81 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

But  this  is  sure,  that  at  the  present  day 
All  colors  serve  to  paint  the  devil's  screen; 

And  many  a  may  beguileth  men  astray 
Who  walketh  not  in  crimson  nor  in  green. 

Truth  is,  all  women  underneath  the  sun 

Do  somewhat  deal  in  Satan's  wiles — save  one. 


COUSIN  FLOY. 


COUSIN   FLOY. 


NOW  mind,  Miss  Grey,  your  name  to-night 
Is  Marie  Antoinette; 
You've  been  promoted,  just  for  once, 

To  wear  a  crown,  my  pet. 
And  pray  remember  who  you  are, 

Be  stately,  proud  and  fair, 
And  let  no  curious  folks  suspect 
That  you  are  stuffed  with  hair. 


It  isn't  every  doll  that's  let 

Go  to  a  masquerade; 
To  dance  and  have  ice-cream  and  cake 

And  nuts  and  lemonade. 
You'll  meet  distinguished  folks,  my  dear, 

Kings,  queens  and  courtiers  gay; 
But  bear  in  mind  and  don't  let  on 

That  it  is  only  play. 
83 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

And  come  away  before  daylight, 

And  tell  me  all  the  news; 
Don't  notice  clown  nor  pantaloon, 

And  don't  run  down  your  shoes. 
Don't  dance  with  any  common  dolls, 

But  be  discreet,  my  lamb; 
You  might,  if  it  should  happen  right, 

Just  bring  me  home  some  jam. 


One  thing  I  must  insist  upon, 

And  don't  forget  it,  please: 
You're  not  to  flirt  the  least  wee  bit, 

No,  not  a  bit — don't  tease. 
For  many  a  doll  that  once  was  gay 

And  light  of  heart,  my  pet, 
Has  in  a  cold  ash-barrel  found 

The  fate  of  a  coquette. 


Do  you  remember  Cousin  Floy? 

Why,  yes;  of  course  you  do; 
We  loved  her  dearly,  didn't  we? 

She  made  a  hat  for  you. 
She  was  so  pretty  and  so  sweet, 

But  flirted,  mama  said; 
I  don't  exactly  understand, 

I  only  know  she's  dead. 
84 


COUSIN.  FLOY. 

She  went  away — I  can't  just  think 

Whatever  made  her  go. 
You  need  n't  cry  because  I  do — 

But  then  I  loved  her  so. 
Before  she  went  her  dear,  sweet  face 

Grew  so  extremely  white — 
I  guess  we  won't  play  masquerade. 

Now  go  to  sleep.     Good  night. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


FROST   PICTURES. 


'"THE  sun  above  the  icy  rim 

That  ringed  the  world  around, 
Arose  and  scattered  shining  gems 

By  millions  on  the  ground; 
And  every  icicle  that  hung 

Point  downward  to  the  snow, 
Was  jeweled  like  a  fairy's  wand, 
With  rainbow  hues  aglow. 


Then  little  Tom  jumped  out  of  bed, 

From  dreams  of  Santa  Claus: 
"To-morrow  will  be  Christmas  Day!" 

And  gave  the  clothes  a  toss; 
And  to  the  frosted  window  ran 

To  see  what  he  could  see: 
"Oh,  my!     What  wonderland  is  this 

Of  splendid  mystery?" 

86 


FROST  PICTURES. 

A  land  of  snow  and  ice  indeed, 

But  beautiful  and  strange; 
A  scene  of  shifting,  iris  tints, 

That  glow  and  fade  and  change; 
A  landscape  of  the  frigid  zone, 

All  white  as  white  could  be, 
And  trees  festooned  with  frosted  vines 

Of  silver  filagree. 


And  in  the  midst  a  palace  rose, 

With  crystal  turrets  clear; 
And  one  stupendous,  shining  dome, 

That  glistened  far  and  near. 
While  like  Aladdin's  bridal  home, 

Built  up  with  genii  care, 
From  every  glittering  casement  shone 

Prismatic  jewels  rare. 


And  underneath  the  frosted  trees, 

The  silver  arches  through, 
Strange,  pigmy  figures  seemed  to  pass 

The  palace  gates  unto; 
Long-bearded  men  of  stature  small, 

In  furry  garments  dressed, 
All  white  and  hoary-haired  and  slow 

And  queer  and  self-possessed. 
87 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

And  each  one  as  he  passed  within 

The  shining  palace  door, 
Upon  his  ancient,  sturdy  back, 

Some  precious  burden  bore. 
Tom  looked  and  looked  and  looked  again- 

What  could  the  picture  mean?— 
Till  all  at  once,  with  throbbing  heart, 

He  recognized  the  scene. 


"It  is  the  home  of  Santa  Glaus, 

Far  up  in  northern  snows!" 
Cried  Tommy,  "And  this  very  night 

With  reindeer  team  he  goes, 
Swift-speeding  o'er  the  sleeping  land, 

To  bring  to  girls  and  boys 
Their  Christmas  gifts  of  skates  and  sleds 

And  knives  and  dolls  and  toys. 


"And  oh!"   said  Tom,  "I  mean  to  wait 
And  see  him  start  to-night"— 

But  even  as  he  spoke  the  scene 
Grew  less  distinct  and  bright ; 

The  glowing  sun  the  frost  dissolved, 
Turned  it  to  mist  again — 

A  memory  in  a  boyish  heart, 
A  shadpw  on  the  pane. 

88 


PREHISTORIC  SMITH. 


PREHISTORIC  SMITH. 


QUATERNARY    EPOCH — POST-PLIOCENE   PERIOD. 


A  MAN  sat  on  a  rock  and  sought 
Refreshment  from  his  thumb; 
A  dinotherium  -wandered  by 
And  scared  him  some. 

His  name  was  Smith.     The  kind  of  rock 

He  sat  upon  was  shale. 
One  feature  quite  distinguished  him — 

He  had  a  tail. 

The  danger  past,  he  fell  into 

A  revery  austere; 
While  with  his  tail  he  whisked  a  fly 

From  off  his  ear. 
89 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

"Mankind  deteriorates,"  he  said, 
"Grows  weak  and  incomplete; 

4nd  each  new  generation  seems 
Yet  more  effete. 

"Nature  abhors  imperfect  work, 

And  on  it  lays  her  ban; 
And  all  creation  must  despise 

A  tailless  man. 

"But  fashion's  dictates  rule  supreme, 

Ignoring  common  sense; 
And  fashion  says,  to  dock  your  tail 

Is  just  immense. 

"And  children  now  come  in  the  world 

With  half  a  tail  or  less; 
Too  stumpy  to  convey  a  thought, 

And  meaningless. 

"It  kills  expression.     How  can  one 
Set  forth,  in  words  that  drag, 

The  best  emotions  of  the  soul, 
Without  a  wag?" 

Sadly  he  mused  upon  the  world, 

Its  follies  and  its  woes; 
Then  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  eyes, 

And  blew  his  nose. 
90 


PREHISTORIC  SMITH. 

But  clothed  in  ear-rings,  Mrs.  Smith 
Came  wandering  down  the  dale; 

And,  smiling,  Mr.  Smith  arose, 
And  wagged  his  tail. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


PRO  AND  CON. 


\  I  7  HEN  ships  come  over  the  sea,  my  love, 
*  *      Come  over  the  shining  sea, 
Like  maidens  walking  a  minuet, 

White-raimented  daintily ; 

Oh  what  do  they  bring  under  each  white  wing, 
What  songs  do  the  sailors  sing, 
While  the  breezes  frolic  along  the  deep, 
And  the  crested  billows  behind  them  sweep, 
As  over  the  sea,  the  shining  sea, 
The  ships  come  sailing  so  merrily? 

When  ships  come  over  the  sea,  my  dear, 

Come  over  the  stormy  sea, 
The  cordage  creaks  in  the  whistling  winds, 

And  the  sails  flap  dismally, 
And  the  sailors  swear,  till  the  raw,  damp  air 
Is  visibly  tinged  with  a  sulphurous  glare, 
And  the  seasick  passengers  faintly  groan, 
And  the  sea-gulls  scream,  and  the  wild  winds  moan, 
As  over  the  sea,  the  storm-swept  sea, 
The  ships  come  laboring  wearily. 
93 


LIFE  AND  CHARACTER. 


LIFE  AND  CHARACTER. 


FROM  A  DOGGY'S  POINT  OF  VIEW. 


T  'M  a  little  curly  doggy  for  a  cent, 

(So  Mabel  says)  as  black  as  doggies  come; 
I  wag  my  tail  at  every  compliment, 

Like  "itty  toozy  woozy  umpty  scrum"; 
My  eyes  are  black,  so  is  my  cold,  wet  nose, 
I  'm  littler  than  a  minute  I  suppose. 


Some  say  I  'm  mischievous  and  some  say  funny; 

I  have  to  bite  things,  but  it  's  only  play; 
I  used  to  have  fine  sport  with  Mabel's  bunray, 

Until  the  poky  fellow  died  one  day; 
Then  Mabel  cried,  and  I  was  really  sorry 
For  fear  the  poor,  weak  creature  died  of  worry. 

93 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

I  'm  very  busy,  for  I  know  it  's  true 
That  idleness  inclines  to  sinful  ways; 

And  every  minute  has  its  work  to  do — 
My  industry  is  "frightful"  Mabel  says; 

(; loves,  shoes,  and  things  too  numerous  to  mention 

Require  a  deal  of  serious  attention. 


Mabel  is  silly.     Such  a  hat  she  wore 

Of  flowers  and  feathers  and  things — it  made  me  sick! 
But  I  got  hold  of  it  one  day  and  tore 

The  ugly  thing  to  pieces  pretty  quick. 
She  cried  again — she  cries  too  easy  quite; 
I  only  know  that  what  I  did  was  right. 


I  wish  my  lot  with  other  dogs  was  cast; 

I  met  a  gentlemanly  large  one  lately. 
After  the  usual  compliments  had  passed 

I  barked,  and  bit  his  ear,  while  he,  sedately, 
Replied  by  an  occasional  sleepy  wink. 
Large  dogs  are  more  humane  than  folks  I  think. 


A  little  human  has  but  lately  come, 

I  don't  know  where  it  came  from,  nor  for  what; 
A  dozen  growns  would  be  less  troublesome, 

And  yet  it  seems  a  comic  little  tot; 
I   like  to  chew  its  wee,  pink,  chubby  toes; 
It  says:    "Ah  goo,"  and  likes  it,  I  suppose. 

94 


LIFE  AND   CHARACTER. 

Miss  Lou  is  Mabel's  cousin,  I  believe: 

A  young  man  called  on  her  the  other  night, 

And  tried  to  keep  her  warm  with  just  his  sleeve; 
Such  foolish  actions  don't,  to  me,  seem  right. 

If  I  am  wrong  his  pardon  I  must  beg, 

He  tried  to  eat  her  and  I  bit  his  leg. 


I  like  the  humans,  and  in  all  I  do 

I  strive  to  win  their  love  with  all  my  might: 
Mabel  and  baby  and  mamma  and  Lou, 

I  love  'em  all  and  try  to  do  what  's  right. 
I  haven't  any  more  to  say  just  now; 
I  'm  going  to  curl  up  on  this  rug,  bow  wow! 


95 


M.IS/C  AND  DOMINO. 


I   WANT. 


I   WANT  — I   don't  know   what   I   want;   I'm   tired  of 
*      everything; 

IM  like  to  be  a  queen  or  something — no,  a  bearded  king, 
With  iron   crown   and  wolfish   eyes  and   manners   fierce 

and  bold, 
Or  else  a  plumed  highwayman,  or  a  paladin  of  old. 


We  girls  are  such  poor  creatures,  slaves  of  circumstance 

and  fate; 
Denied  the  warrior's  glory  and  the  conqueror's  splendid 

state ; 
And,  puss,  you  are  so  mortal  slow ;  I  wish  you  could  be 

changed 
Into  a  catamount,  with  tastes  quite  violent  and  deranged. 

I'd  like  an  earthquake,  that  I  would — oh,  puss,  I'll  tell 

you  what, 
Some  planets  have   two   suns   and   different   colors,  too, 

at  that; 

96 


/  WANT. 

Now  there  would  be  variety:  two  mornings  every  day — 
One  green  or  brown,  for  instance,  and   the  other  crim- 
son, say. 

What  splendid  lights,  what  curious  shades,  what  trans- 
formation scenes; 

What  queer  surprises,  puss,  just  think,  what  lovely  pinks 
and  greens! 

How  funny  Gus  would  look !     He  is  so  poky  and  so  flat. 

But  such  complexions!     After  all,  I  shouldn't  fancy  that. 

I'll  never  marry  Gus,  of  that  I'm  very  sure  at  least, 
I'd  sooner  be  a  bandit's  bride,  united  by  a  priest  .... 
Oh,  there  you  are,  sir!     No,  indeed!     I'll  not  be  kissed 

at  all! 
No,  sir,  I've  changed  my  mind ;  we  wont  be  married  in 

the  fall. 

Now  do  be  still.     I've  changed  my  mind.     My  privilege, 

I  believe — 
Oh,   horrible!     What's    this?     A  daddy-long-legs  on  my 

sleeve ! 
Oh,  Gus,  come  quick!     I'm  deadly  faint!     Do  take  the 

thing  away! 
Yes,  yes,  I'll  promise  anything!    I'll  marry  you  to-day! 


97 


-I/./6A'  AND  DOMINO. 


COASTING. 


COME  out  into  the  moonlit  night, 
With  muff  and  tippet,  dear; 
The  stars  are  laughing  down  at  us, 

The  air  is  keen  and  clear — 
So  keen  and  clear  that  life  and  health 

Throb  high  in  every  vein. 
Away  with  languid,  silken  ease, 

And  sparkle  of  champagne! 
Come  out,  love!     Come  out,  love! 

Come  out  in  coasting  gear! 
With  fur-topped  boots  and  stockings  red, 

And  redder  cheeks,  my  dear. 

Give  me  your  little  hand  in  mine, 

We  '11  climb  the  hill  together; 
To  climb  is  easy  as  to  sing, 

This  splendid  winter  weather. 
The  world  is  like  an  ice-king's  bride, 

All  raimented   in  white; 
The  icy  palaces  shall  ring 

With  bridal  songs  to-night. 
98 


COASTING. 

Old  gaffer  Care,  the  poor  old  soul, 
Hath  cast  his  wares  away; 

Hark  to  the  sleigh-bells  chorusing 
A  jubilate  gay! 

Give  voice,  my  dear,  and  carol  forth 

A  song  to  fit  the  time; 
Pour  out  in  clear  and  joyous  notes 

A  merry-footed  rhyme. 
The  yellow  moon  leans  low  adown 

From  out  the  starry  sky, 
To  hear  the  silvery  sounds  of  mirth 

And  music  floating  by. 
Now  down  we  go,  as  swift  and  sure 

As  sea-gulls  o'er  the  sea; 
Or  shooting  stars  that  flashing  fly 

In  spaces  far  and  free. 

The  snow  flies  up  in  diamond-dust — 

Take  care,  hold  hard  and  fast! 
A  tingling  shower  of  blinding  snow — 

Hurrah!     Upset  at  last! 
Such  frolics  chance  to  all  who  love 

The  swiftly  flying  sled, 
And  blinking  stars  alone  beheld 

That  glimpse  of  stockings  red. 
Now  home  we  go  with  hearts  aglow, 

And  faces  glad  and  bright; 
Good  angels  keep  you,  little  one! 

Good-night,  my  love,  good-night! 

99 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


TABLEAUX. 


THE  sun  of  Austerlitz  had  set 
Behind  the  pantry  door; 
Napoleon  sheathed  his  gleaming  blade 

And  laid  it  on  the  floor; 
The  Iron  Mask  took  off  his  wig — 

It  hurt  his  ear,  he  said; 
And  Queen  Elizabeth  removed 
Three-quarters  of  her  head. 


The  next  thing  was  Iniquitous, 

Which  seemed  to  please  them  all; 
And  then  we  played  The  Prodigal, 

And  then  tableau'd  The  Fail; 
But  Snipes,  who  took  the  Serpent's  part, 

Got  hungry  probably; 
At  least  he  ate  The  Apple  up 

And  quarreled  with  The  Tree. 


TABLEAUX. 

A  larky  spirit  was  abroad 

Which  spoiled  the  serious  things, 
And  led  the  girls  to  giggle  at 

Apollyon's  awful  wings; 
And  when  the  final  scene  was  set 

Of  Mary  Stuart's  death, 
Poor  Mary  was  in  such  a  gale 

She  couldn't  catch  her  breath. 


A  gloomy  court,  a  headsman's  block 

All  hung  with  weeds  of  woe, 
An  Executioner  in  black, 

And  tapers  burning  low; 
A  weird,  funereal,  solemn  scene, 

Impressive,  gloomy,  dark; 
With  all  the  tragic  retinue 

Just  bursting  for  a  lark. 


Too  bad!    but  Mary  looked  so  sweet, 

And  had  such  pretty  hair, 
The  headsman  leaned  upon  his  ax 

And  kissed  her  plump  and  square; 
Then  Perky  Jones,  the  cowled  monk, 

So  grim,  and  stern,  and  slow, 
Turned  somersaults  across  the  block 

And  spoiled  the  whole  tableau. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Then  buzz  of  talk,  and  change  of  seats, 

And  laughter's  merry  peal, 
Broke  up  the  show,  and  all  the  boys 

Took  partners  for  a  reel. 
And  we  at  Jones's  Corners  think 

That  trying  to  be  jolly 
Is  better  for  the  human  r 

Than  limp,  aesthetic  folly. 


THE  UNATTAINABLE. 


THE   UNATTAINABLE. 


TT  chanced  that  as  I  wandered  on  my  way, 

One  summer's  day, 
With  thoughts  that  tended  unto  fancies  quaint; 

I  came  anear  a  streamlet  running  clear, 
Like  school-boy  glad  what  time  he  flies  restraint; 

And  on  its  brink 
A  pensive-minded  ass  had  paused  to  think. 

He  stood  reflective,  gazing  far  away, 

As  who  should  say: 
. "  This  slumbrous  summer  noon  is  nowise  fit 

For  aught  of  toil  or  any  vain  turmoil, 
But  in  the  lap  of  dreamy  thoughts  to  sit, 

And  gather  so 
Such  peace  of  mind  as  lazy  asses  know." 

Quite  lost  in  contemplation  deep  was  he, 

Nor  heeded  me; 
One  ear  did  somewhat  droop,  as  with  the  weight 

Of  portly  fly,  which  gravely  hung  thereby, 
In  seeming  comfort  and  contentment  great; 

Nor  deemed  that  he 

Was  otherwhere  than  eke  a  fly  should  be. 
103 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

"O  ass,"  I  said,  "what  perfect  rest  is  thine, 

What   peace  benign! 
Dost  thou  not  know  such  pleasure  cannot  last? 

Hast  thou  no  fear  of  blows  still  due  thee  here 
As  debits  on   the  page  by  fate  forecast?" 

He  offered  no  reply, 
But  with  his  hind-foot  calmly  brushed  that  fly. 

"O  ass,"  I  said,  "the  pleasant  hours  are  few 

Thy  journey  through. 
Dost  thou  not  dread  what  yet  may  come  to  pass? 

Methinks,  perchance,  thine  utter  nonchalance 
May  be  because,  in  truth,  thou  art  an  ass." 

Thus  I,  in  brief; 
He  naught,  but  used  his  tongue  for  handkerchief. 

"O  ass,"  I  said,  "canst  thou  not  teach  to  me 

Serenity, 
And  full  enjoyment  of  the  passing  hour? 

Without  or  vain  regret,  or  ceaseless,  weary  fret, 
Toward  what  future  ills  may  darkly  lower?" 

He  turned  his  head. 
Full-solemn  winked  he,  but  no  word  said. 

Nor  have  I  ever  learned  the  potent  plan 

From  ass  or  man, 
Of  how  to  rest  content  with  present  good, 

Without  forebodings  vain,  or  retrospective  pain 
To  mar  the  most  complacent,  peaceful  mood. 

Nor  is  it  true 

That  any  folk  but  <  h  thereto. 

104 


SILVER-GLOSS  AND    TANGLE-FOOT. 


SILVER-GLOSS  AND  TANGLE-FOOT. 


SLEEPY  little  Toddlekins 
In  the  corn-field  lay; 
Resting  on  a  pumpkin  vine, 

Tired  out  with  play; 
Golden  head  on  golden  pillow 

Dropped  to  sleep  at  last, 
While  the  shades  of  afternoon 
Slowly  lengthened  past. 


Sunset  faded,  twilight  melted 

Into  balmy  night, 
And  the  lazy,  harvest  moon 

Slowly  crept  in  sight; 
The  insect  choir  began  to  stir, 

Each  tuned  his  little  flute, 
And  joining  with  the  katydids, 

Began  the  great  dispute. 
105 


/1/.-/.VA"  AND  DOMINO. 

Little  Toddlekins  awoke, 

Scarce  believed  her  eyes; 
Sat  up  straight  and  looked  about 

In  a   vast  surprise; 
All  the  corn-field  was  alive — 

Such  a   wondrous  sight — 
With  a  throng  of  fairy  forms, 

In  the  moonshine  bright. 


Puzzled  little  Toddlekins, 

Wide-eyed,  gazed  around; 
Came  a  princely  cavalier, 

Bowing  to  the  ground; 
With  a  tasseled  cap  of  gold 

And  a  cloak  of  green — 
"Little  Toddlekins,"  he  said, 

"Will  you  be  my  queen? 


"I'm  the  king  of  corn-field  fays, 

Silver-Gloss  my  name; 
These  my  peers  and  paladins 

Of  honorable  fame; 
These  my  subjects — will  you  be 

Their  (jueen   and   mine?"    said  he- 
"I  ask  it  on  my  bended  knees." 

u  It"  you  please,"  said  she. 
1 06 


SILVER-GLOSS  AND    TANGLE-FOOT. 

He  took  her  hand  with  courtly  grace, 

And  led  her  to  his  throne; 
See  how  very,  very  small 

Toddlekins  has  grown; 
All  her  wonder  at  an  end, 

Quietly  sedate, 
Like  a  born  princess  she  seemed 

In  her  royal  state. 


And  then  what  games  and  sports  went  on, 

What  dances  and  what  fun ; 
What  races  on  unsightly  steeds 

With  spindle-shanks  were  run; 
What  flights  into  the  moon-lit  air 

On  gauzy-winged  balloons; 
While  all  the  while  the  insect  choir 

Played  up  their  million  tunes. 


But  hark!    a  trumpet  tone  rings  out, 

And  then  a  shrill  alarm — 
"Arm,  arm,  my  braves!"    cried  Silver-Gloss, 

"With  spear  and  buckler  arm! 
'Tis  Tangle-Foot,  the  wicked  imp, 

With  all  his  evil  horde, 
To  drive  us  from  our  corn-field  fair; — 

Out,  every  flashing  sword!"     * 
107 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

They  marshalled  quickly  for  the  fray, 

And  quickly  rame  the  foe; 
Dark,  hazard   imps,  with  glaring  eyes, 

And  grizzly  shapes  of  woe; 
Led  on  by  scowling  Tangle-Foot, 

Armed  with  a  crooked  sword; 
\Yhile  Toddlekins,  upon  her  throne, 

Sat  trembling  for  her  lord. 


Strike!    fairies,  strike!    for  life  and  limb, 

For  honor  and  for  fame! 
And  strike  to  rid  your  corn-field  home 

Of  wickedness  and  shame! 
Hurrah!    hurrah!    for  Silver-Gloss! 

The  evil  one  is  down! 
The  silver-crested,  fairy  king, 

Has  saved  his  life  and  crown! 


Then  all  the  phantoms  shrieking  fled, 

And  joyously  once  more 
The  fairies  sang  and  danced  and  played 

As  merrily  as  before. 
While  through  the  pleasant  summer  nijjit. 

O'er  hills  and   fields  and  dells, 
voices  rose  and  fell 

Like  chiming  silver  bells. 

108 


SILVER-GLOSS  AND    TANGLE-FOOT. 

The  moon  sank  down,  the  light  of  dawn 

Came  creeping  o'er  the  skies, 
And  troubled  little  Toddlekins 

Rubbed  both  her  sleepy  eyes; 
Upon  her  pumpkin  throne  she  sat 

Quite  lonesome  and  forlorn, 
For  nothing  of  the  show  remained 

But  waving  fields  of  corn. 


109 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


A  CATASTROPHE. 


NO  human   being 
Who  saw  that  sight, 
But  felt  a  shudder 

Of  chill  affright. 
He  sat  in  a  window 

Three  stories  high, 
A  little  baby 

With  no  one  nigh. 
A  stranger  saw  him 

And  stopped  to  stare; 
A  crowd  soon  gathered 

To  watch  him  there. 

A  gleam,  a  flutter, 

In  airy  flight, 
Came  past  the  window 

A  butterfly  bright. 
From  fields  of  clover 

And  perfumed  air, 
Wayfaring  insect 

What  brought  you  there? 
The  baby  saw  it, 

And  eagerly, 
Reached  out  to  catch  it. 

And  crowed  with  glee. 


A    CATASTROPHE. 

With  fat,  pink  fingers, 

Reached  out — and  fell! 
The  awful  horror 

No  tongue  can  tell. 
Poor  little  baby, 

So  sweet  and  bright! 
Pale  faces  quivered, 

And  lips  grew  white, 
Weak  women  fainted, 

Strong  men  grew  weak, 
And  rose  one  woman's 

Heart-piercing  shriek. 

Hurrah  for  the  awning! 

Upon  the  fly, 
It  caught  the  youngster 

And  tossed  him  high; 
The  bounce  prodigious 

Made  baby  scowl; 
He  caught  his  breath,  sir, 

And  set  up  a  howl. 
All  blessed  the  awning 

That  had  no  flaw, 
But  a  madder  baby 

You  never  saw. 


.)/.  ISA"  AND  DOMINO. 


DOWN  THE   SWITCHBACK. 


SIDE  by  side  we  rode  together, 
On  a  clear  October  day, 
While  the  mountains,   crimson-crested, 

Kept  a  royal  holiday. 
Down  the  Switchback  from  Mount  Pisgah 

\Ve  went  speeding  o'er  the  hills, 
With  the  golden  sunlight  flashing 

From  the  rippling,  mountain  rills. 
But  the  flashing  and  the  glinting, 

And  the  blue  of  autumn  skies, 
Were  but  frosty  in  their  beauty 

To  the  summer  of  her  eyes. 
Side  by  side  we  rode  together, 

And  I  did  not  dare  to  wait, 
For  she  was  seventeen,  and  I 

Was  turned  of  forty-eight. 


DOWN  THE  SWITCHBACK. 

So  I  whispered  to  her:     "Darling, 

Let  us  travel,  side  by  side, 
Down  the  grade  of  Life's  long  Switchback, 

To  the  shoreless  ocean's  tide." 
But  she  looked  away  far  over  * 

All  the  hills  that  lay  between, 
To  the  distant,  dim  horizon, 

And  her  eyes  were  too  serene, 
As  she  said:     "I  like  October, 

With  its  splendors  of  decay, 
But  I  like  the  spring-time  better, 

And  the  warm,  sweet  air  of  May." 
Thus  we  traveled  down  the  Switchback, 

Thus  I  trifled  with  my  fate; 
For  she  was  seventeen,  and  I 

Was  turned  of  forty-eight. 


METROPOLITAN 
CHARACTER  SKETCHES  IN  VERSE. 


THE  BAR-TENDER'S  STORY. 


THE   BAR-TENDER'S   STORY. 


\I  7HEN  I  knew  him  at  first  it  is  certing 
*  *     That  he  was  a  model  young  man ; 
Apparently  Nature  had  shaped  him 

On  a  sort  of  a  liberal  plan; 
Had  guv  him  good  looks  and  good  language, 

And  manners  expressive  and  free, 
And  a  habit  of  spending  his  money 
Which  was  really  a  pleasure  to  see. 


He  was  noways  inclined  to  be  stuck  up, 

Nor  the  sort  to  be  easy  put  down ; 
And  was  thought  to  be  jolly  agreeable 

Wherever  he  went  around  town. 
He  used  to  come  in  for  his  beverage 

Quite  regular,  every  night; 
And  I  took  a  consid'able  interest 

In  mixing  the  thing  about  right. 
117 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

A  judicious  indulgence  in  liquids 

It   is  natural  for  me  to  admire; 
lint    I   have  to  admit  that  for  some  folks 

They  are  pison  complete  and  entire; 
For  rum,  though  a  cheerful  companion, 

As  a  boss  is  the  devil's  own  chum; 
And  this  chap,   I  am  sorry  to  state  it, 

Was  floored  in  a  wrastle  with  rum. 


For  he  got  to  increasing  his  doses, 

And  took  'em  more  often,  he  did; 
And  it  grew  on  him  faster  and  faster 

Till  into  a  bummer  he  slid. 
1  was  grieved  to  observe  this  young  fellow 

A  letting  himself  down  the  grade; 
And  I  lectured  him  onto  it  sometimes, 

At  the  risk  of  its  injuring  trade. 


At  last  he  got  thundering  seedy, 

And  lost  his  respect  for  himself, 
And  all  his  high  notions  of  honor 

Were  bundled  away  on  the  shelf. 
But  at  times  he  was  dreadful  remorseful 

Whenever  he'd  stop  for  to  think, 
And   he'd   *wear   to   reform   himself  frequent, 

And  end   it   by   taking  a  drink. 

118 


THE  BAR-TENDERS  STORY. 

What  saved  that  young  feller!     A  woman! 

She  done  it  the  singlerest  way. 
He  came  in  the  bar-room  one  evening 

(He  hadn't  been  drinking  that  day), 
And  sot  himself  down  to  a  table 

With  a  terrible  sorrowful  face, 
And  he  sot  there  a  groaning  repeated, 

And  calling  himself  a  gone  case. 


He  was  thinking  and  thinking  and  thinking, 

And  cursing  himself  and  his  fate, 
And  ended  his  thinking  as  usual, 

By  ordering  a  Bourbon  straight. 
He  was  holding  the  glass  in  his  fingers, 

When  into  the  place  from  the  street, 
There  came  a  young  girl  like  a  spirit, 

With  a  face  that  was  wonderful  sweet. 


,  And  she  glided  right  up  to  the  table, 

And  took  the  glass  gently  away, 
And  she  says  to  him:    " George,  it  is  over; 

I  am  only  a  woman  to-day! 
I  rejected  you  once,  in  my  anger, 

But  I  come  to  you  lowly  and  meek; 
For  I  can't  live  without  you,  my  darling; 
I  thought  I  was  strong,  but  I'm  weak. 
119 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

You  are  bound  in  a  terrible  bondage, 

And  I  come,  love,  to  share  it   with  you; 
Is  there  shame  in  the  deed?     I  can  bear  it, 

For,  at  last,  to  my  love  I  am  true; 
I   have  turned  from  the  home  of  my  childhood, 

And  I  come  to  you,  lover  and  friend, 
Leaving  comfort,  contentment  and  honor, 

And  I'll  stay  to  the  terrible  end. 


Is  there  hunger  and  want  in  the  future? 

I   will  share  them  with  you,  and  not  shrink! 
And  together  we'll  join  in  the  pleasures, 

The  wties  and  the  dangers  of  drink." 
Then  she  raised  up  the  glass,  firm  and  steady, 

But  her  face  was  as  pale  as  the  dead— 
"Here's  to  wine  and  the  joy  of  carousals, 

The  songs  and  the  laughter,"  she  said. 


Then  he  rose  up,  his  face  like  a  tempest, 

And  took  the  glass  out  of  her  hand, 
And  slung  it  away,  stern  and  savage, 

And  I  tell  you  his  manner  was  grand! 
And  he  says:    "I  have  done  with  it,  Nelly, 

And   I'll  turn  from  the  ways  I   have  trod, 
And  FH  live  to  be  worthy  of  you,  dear. 

So  help  me  a  merciful  God1" 


THE  BAR-TENDER'S  STORY. 

What  more  was  remarked,  it  is  needless 

For  me  to  attempt  to  relate; 
It  was  some  time  ago  since  it  happened, 

But  the  sequel  is  easy  to  state; 
I  saw  that  same  feller  last  Monday, 

Looking  nobby  and  handsome  and  game; 
He  was  wheeling  a  vehicle,  gentlemen, 

And  a  baby  was  into  the  same. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


THE   OLD   FIREMAN'S  STORY. 


YES,  yes;  you've  got  a  fine  machine— a  beautiful  ma- 
chine; 
A  handsome  critter,  burnished  well,  and  smart  and  neat 

and  clean. 
I    s'pose    now,    with    your    horses    and    your    telegraph 

alarms, 
And  fire  and  steam   to   do   the  work,  instead   of  hands 

and  arms, 
It   ain't   so   hard    on    flesh   and   blood,  and   like  as  not 

the  fires 
Has  less   to   brag   of  fighting   steam,   that   never   slacks 

nor  tires; 
But,  boys,  those   old    machines   of  ours— we   loved   'em 

mighty  well, 
And  liked  to  hear  the  music  of  the  good  old   fire-bell! 

Yes,  thank  you,  boys,  I  wouldn't  mind  to  sit   and  chat 

awhile, 
And  have  a  pipe,  and   hear   you  tell  about  the  modern 

style; 

122 


THE  OLD  FIREMAN'S  STORY. 

But  somehow,  boys,  I  don't  believe,  in  these  here  tem- 
perance days, 

You  get  the  same  enjoyment  from  a  roasting,  roaring 
blaze 

Like  what  we  did  in  olden  times,  when  through  the 
sleeping  town 

The  watch-tower  clanged  the  loud  alarm.  It  did  the 
business  brown, 

And  fetched  the  night-caps  out  of  bed  to  see  the  fun, 
you  know, 

When  I  was  chief  of  Neptune  Five,  some  thirty  years 
ago. 

I  feel  at  home  amongst  you,  boys;   it   carries  me  away 
To  times  when  our  red  shirts  and  belts   was  thought  to 

be  quite  gay. 
And   then   the   girls — poke   bonnets,  eh? — would   always 

have  an  eye 

For  any  gallus  fireman.     God  bless  the  girls!    says  I. 
I  s'pose  some  of  you  may  have   heard   about   the   little 

strike 

That  makes  me  easy  nowadays  and  independent  like; 
For  though  I'd    take    no   payment   then,  it  didn't  come 

so  ill 
When  clean  five  thousand  dollars,  boys,  was   left  me  in 

a  will. 

It  happened  on  a  summer's  night,  in  eighteen  forty-two: 
A  fine  house  on  a  corner  up  in  Second  Avenue 
Took  fire  in  the  basement,  and  before  the  people  woke 

123 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

The  flames  were  raging  down  below — the  house  was  full 

of  smoke. 
When   we   got    there    the    people  was  a  dropping,  white 

with  fear, 

To  the  roof  of  an  extension  from  the  second  story  rear. 
They  were  safe;   but  thrilling  through  us  rang  a  cry  of 

wild   despair 
From  out  an  upper  window,  and  we  saw  a  woman  there. 

A  woman  with  a  little  child  held  to  her  bosom  tight. 

I  was  up  on  the  extension  in  a  jiffy  at  the  sight, 

And    I   climbed   in   at   the   window   through  the  smoke 

that  rushed  out  thick, 
And  I  groped  my  way  up  blindly — not  a  second,  though, 

too  quick, 
For   the   fire   was    gaining    headway   fast;   and   when    I 

found  the  pair 
It  was  bursting   out  where   I   climbed    in,  and   shooting 

up  the  stair. 
Too   late   to  save   them   from   below — I   saw  that  plain 

enough ; 
I  don't  know  how  I  done  it,  but  I  got  'em  to  the  roof. 

As  we  came  up  a  cheer  broke  out  from  anxious  crowd- 
beneath  ; 

I  Jut  still  my  chance  was  mighty  slim  to  save  us  all  from 
death. 

No  ladder  could  have  reached  us  through  the  smoke 
and  flame  below; 

"4 


THE  OLD  FIREMAN'S  STOR  Y. 

The  next  roof  thirty  foot  away — an  awful  gap,  you 
know. 

Cut  off,  it  seemed,  from  human  aid,  no  means  of  res- 
cue nigh; 

Alone  between  a  blazing  hell,  a  black  and  lurid  sky; 

Three  of  us,  face  to  face  with  death,  hemmed  in  with 
terrors  wild, 

And  one  a  trembling  woman  was,  and  one  a  little 
child. 

I  never  see  a  sight  like  that — the  mother  kneeling  there, 
Her   arms  around   the   little   boy,  her  face  upturned  in 

prayer. 

If  ever  human  agony  reached  right  up  through  the  skies, 
Then   did   the   supplication   of   those   piteous,   pleading 

eyes. 

Likely  heaven  took  an  interest  the  little  one  to  save, 
For  now  they're  on  the  other  roof — my  boys  so  prompt 

and  brave! 
And    now   they've    hauled    a   ladder    up,   and    now   it's 

shoved  across; 
But  such  a  bridge!     You'd  better  b'lieve  the  thing  was 

perilous. 

The  mother  saw  and  shuddered;   cast  one  more  glance 

around 
Upon  the  gathering,  fiery  doom,  and  heard  its  sullen 

sound ; 
Then  kissed  the  child  with  clinging  lips  and  held  him 

out  to  me: 

125 


JA/.VA'  .l\l)  DOM/XO. 

"Save   //////,    save    ///'/// — my   precious    boy!     My   life    is 

naught, "  said  she. 
1   took   him.  started;  runi;   by  rung   I   stepped   the  chasm 

o'er, 
Through    stifling    gusts    the    fire    sent    up    with    dull  and 

an-ry   roar; 
Till,  safe  across,  the  child  I  gave,  then   turned  to  cross 

again 
To  help  the  mother;  but  I  saw  the  peril  would  be  vain! 

She    had   watched    the   dizzy   journey    with   a   mother's 

eager  eye, 

Until  we  stood  in  safety;   then  she  heard  a  little  cry, 
And  saw  her  baby's   outstretched   arms.      Another    look 

to  God: 
"Yes,  darling;   mamma's  coming   now" — and    forth   the 

woman  trod. 
Her  feet  were  bare,  her   hair   was   loose   and   streaming 

on  the  night; 

The  lurid  glow  lit  up  her  face  with  red,  unearthly  light. 
I  tell  you  now  my  nerves  were  shook  performing  of  the 

feat 
That  that  pale  woman  undertook  through   fiery  gusts  of 

heat. 

No  doubt  her  feet  was  guided.  Like  a  spirit  swift  she 
came, 

While  the  roof  behind  her,  as  she  left,  broke  into  sweep- 
ing ilame. 

But  when  the  dreadful  journey  in  safety  she  had  passed, 

126 


THE  OLD  FIREMAN'S  STORY. 

Her  woman's  weakness  triumphed  and  went  back  on  her 

at  last, 
And  she  fell  amongst  us   fainting;   but  I  reckon  such  a 

cheer 
As  went  up   on    that   occasion,  would  a  done  you  good 

to  hear. 
It  was  nip  and  tuck  'tween  life  and  death  for  all  of  us 

that  night; 
But  death  was  euchred.     That's  all,  boys;  I'd  thank  you 

for  a  light. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


DADDY   FLICK'S  SPREE. 


pvADDY  Flick  was  a  queer  old  Dick, 
*-^    Trudging  along  with  a  crooked  stick, 
Frowsy  and  dirty  and  tattered  and  torn, 
Wearing  a  hat  that  a  goat  would  scorn 
To  nibble  at,  it  was  so  forlorn. 
He  was  gray  as  a  badger  and  old  as  a  crow, 
And  his  eyes  were  queer — well,  beery,  you  know, 
Bleached  and  weak — and  he  had,  I  suppose, 
The  most  absurd  and  peculiar  nose 
That  ever  invited  a  passer-by 
To  think  of  the  worth  of  ebriety. 
Naught  can  I  say  in  his  praise,  I  wot. 
Respectable?     Honest?     Oh,  certainly  not! 
Most  people -calU-d  Uim  a  wretched  old  sot. 
Only  a  beggar.     He  used  to  stand, 
Day  by  day,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand, 
Asking  for  pence  from  the  grave  and  the  gay, 
And  getting  them,  too,  I  am  glad  to  say, 
128 


DADD  Y  FLICJCS  SPREE. 

Not  in  abundance,  but  just  enough 

For  a  little  bread,  and  more  of  the  stuff 

That  went  to  nourish  his  curious  nose 

And  keep  it  blooming,  a  full-blown  rose. 

"  Life,"  he  said,  "  For  the  rich  or  poor, 

Means  but  the  same — endure,  endure! 

Troubles  to  poor  and  rich  befall, 

But  the  bottle,"  he  said,  "Is  a  friend  to  all." 

Now  that  you  know  the  old  reprobate, 
Beggar,  dishonest,  inebriate, 
All  that  he  asks,  sir,  of  you  or  me 
Is  a  little  measure  of  charity. 

For  twenty  years  he  had  been  the  same, 
Till  at  last  the  usual  period  came 
When  age  began  to  assert  itself 
And  threatened  to  lay  him  upon  the  shelf. 
And  parties  said  in  that  part  of  the  town 
That  the  poor  old  sinner  was  breaking  down; 
When  all  at  once  he  was  seen  to  be 
Displaying  a  greater  activity; 
Begging  with  more  than  his  usual  vim, 
And,  what  was  entirely  new  for  him, 
Picking  up  jobs,  and  inquiring,  too, 
For  any  work  he  could  find  to  do. 
Neighbors  said  it  was  strange,  if  true, 
When  they  heard  a  rumor  to  that  effect ; 
A  change  impossible  to  expect. 
It  seemed,  you  perceive,  anomalous 
129 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

That    Mick  should   he  turning  industrious. 
But  SO   it   w:is;   if  you'll   listen    well, 
The  bottom  facts  of  the  case  I'll  tell. 

All  of  us,  in   this  vale  of  tears, 

Rush  along  through  the  busy  years 

Chasing  phantoms,  and,  when  they're  caught, 

Finding  out  we  have  captured  naught. 

I  have  caught  shadows — confound  the  same! 

Happy  the  mortal  who  has  no  aim. 

Flick,  for  seventy  years  to  date, 

Had  never  thought  to  be  bothering  fate; 

Had  been  contented  to  barely  live, 

Caring  for  nothing  the  world  can  give. 

A  sort  of  philosopher,  as  I  think, 

In  seeking  for  naught  'but  his  meat  and  drink. 

But,  mind  you,  never  a  notion  had  he 

Of  any  taint  of  philosophy. 

The  greatest  and  wisest  have  one  soft  streak, 
And  so  at  the  last  Flick  showed  up  weak. 

He  said  to  himself  on  a  certain  day, 
-Daddy  Flick,  you  are  old  and  gray, 
Likely  to  drop  off  any  day. 
1U  fore  your  coffin  is  lowered  down. 
Or,  what   is  worse,  you  go  on  the  town, 
You  ought  to  have,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
One  good,  old-fashioned,  expensive  spree." 
130 


DADDY  FLICK'S  SPREE. 

Alas,  I  fear  that  my  readers  all 

Are  disappointed  at  such  a  fall; 

I  wish  he  had  felt  a  higher  call, 

Something  of  nobler  and  healthier  tone, 

An  aspiration  with  more  backbone. 

But  I  told  you  before  that  the  poor  old  rat 

Had  never  a  virtue  beneath  his  hat. 

I  must  tell  my  stories  as  they  befall; 

If  you  don't  like  'em,  don't  read  'em,  that's  .all 

After  a  couple  of  months  had  passed, 
Daddy  Flick  had  at  length  amassed 
A  sum  sufficient,  he  thought,  to  see 
His  way  to  that  same  old-fashioned  spree. 
And  so  one  night  as  he  paddled  home, 
He  said  to  himself  that  the  time  had  come, 
And,  cackling  over  an  ancient  song, 
He  jingled  his  cash  as  he  went  along. 

What  were  his  assets?     A  marvelous  sum, 
Enough  to  purchase  unlimited  rum, 
(Listen,  you  who  collect  your  rents!) 
About  a  dollar  and  fifty  cents. 

Passing  along  by  a  vacant  lot, 

(The  name  of  the  street  I  have  clean  forgot) 

A  very  diminutive  boy  he  spied, 

Slouching  a  very  tall  fence  beside: 

A  lonesome  figure,  so  woe-begone, 

So  desolate-looking  and  haggard  and  wan, 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

That  even  Flick,  in  his  callous  heart, 

Felt  a  movement  of  pity  start. 

Ragged  he  was  and  exceedingly  small, 

With  garments  that  covered  him,  that  was  all; 

A  cap  remarkable  after  its  kind, 

With  front  dismantled  and  baggy  behind; 

Shoes  too  big  by  about  a  mile, 

Hut  gaping  wide  with  a  frightful  smile, 

As  though  they  laughed  at  the  tiny  feet 

That  dragged  such  a  burden  along  the  street. 

He  stood  there  listless  and  weary  and  worn, 
Hands  in  his  pockets,  alone  and  forlorn; 
His  features  stained  with  the  dirty  streaks 
Of  the  tears  that  had  dried  on  his  little  cheeks. 

Flick  was  none  of  your  tender  sort, 

Philanthropy  never  had  been  his  forte; 

But  the  look  of  the  child  was  so  woefully  sad 

That  he  stopped  and  spoke  to  the  little  lad, 

And  got  the  story  I'll  tell  to  you, 

Since  it  only  requires  a  line  or  two: 

His  mother  had  died  in  a  drunken  fit, 

He  was  hungry,  and  that  was  the  whole  of  it. 

Flick,  as  you  know,  was  all  primed  for  a  spree; 
All  the  same  he  said,  "Come  with  me!" 
An  1  took  the  child  to  his  narrow  den, 
And  fed  him  and  kept  him  that  night,  and  then, 
To  cut  it  short,  he  put  up  the  tin 
132 


DADD  Y  FLICICS  SPREE. 

He  had  labored  so  long  and  so  hard  to  win, 
And  started  the  boy  in  the  paper  trade, 
Where  he  prospered  well  and  a  living  made. 

Then  Flick  returned  to  his  ancient  ways, 

And  loafed  and  begged  through  the  listless  days; 

Cracking,  by  way  of  amusing  folk, 

An  occasional  rummy  and  senile  joke. 

But  what  is  the  funniest  thing  to  me, 

He  always  thought  he  had  had  that  spree, 

And  bragged  about  it  to  every  j)ne? 

That  for  once  in  his  life  he  had  had  some  fun. 

He  died  in  the  course  of  time,  and  went, 

I  make  no  doubt,  to  his  punishment; 

For,  of  course,  such  a  wretched  old  sinner  as  he 

Could  stand  no  show  in  eternity. 

There's  just  one  thing  to  his  credit,  though, 

He  never  asked  to  be  born,  you  know. 


'33 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


POOR   LITTLE  JOE. 


PROP  yer  eyes  wide  open,  Joey, 
Fur  I've  brought  you  sumpin'  great. 
Apples?     No,  enough  sight  better! 

Don't  you  take  no  int'rest?     Wait! 
Flowers,  Joe — I  know'd  you'd  like  'em— 

Ain't  them  scrumptious?     Ain't  them  hirli? 
Tears,  my  boy?     Wofs  them  fur,  Joey? 
There— poor  little  Joe! — don't  cry! 


I  was  skippin'  past  a  winder 
Where  a  bang-up  lady  sot, 
All  amongst  a  lot  of  bushes— 

h  one  climbin'  from  a  pot; 
Every  bush  had  flowers  on  it— 

Pretty?     Mebbe  not!     Oh,  no! 
Wi.-h  you  could  'a  seen  'em  growin\ 
It  was  such  a  stunnin'  show. 
134 


POOR  LITTLE  JOE. 

Well,  I  thought  of  you,  poor  feller, 

Lyin'  here  so  sick  and  weak, 
Never  knowin'  any  comfort, 

And  I  puts  on  lots  o'  cheek. 
"Missus,"  says  I,  "if  you  please,  mum, 

Could  I  ax  you  for  a  rose? 
For  my  little  brother,  missus, 

Never  seed  one,  I  suppose." 


Then  I  told  her  all  about  you — 

How  I  bringed  you  up — poor  Joe! 
(Lackin'  women  folks  to  do  it) 

Sich  a  imp  you  was,  you  know! 
Till  yer  got  that  awful  tumble, 

Jist  as  I  had  broke  yer  in 
(Hard  work,  too)  to  earn  your  livin' 

Blackin'  boots  for  honest  tin. 


How  that  tumble  crippled  of  you, 

So's  you  couldn't  hyper  much — 
Joe,  it  hurted  when  I  seen  you 

Fur  the  first  time  with  yer  crutch. 
"But,"  I  says,  "he's  laid  up  now,  mum, 

'Pears  to  weaken  every  day;" 
Joe'  she  up  and  went  to  cuttin' — 

That's  the  how  of  this  bokay. 

'35 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

Say,  it  seems  to  me,  ole  feller, 

You  is  quite  yourself  to-night; 
Kind  o'  chirk — it's  been  a  fortnit 

Sence  yer  eyes  has  been  so  bright. 
Better?     Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it! 

Yes,  they're  mighty  pretty,  Joe. 
Smellin'  of  'em's  made  you  happy? 

Well,  I  thought  it  would,  you  know. 


Never  see  the  country,  did  you? 

Flowers  growin'  everywhere! 
Some  time  when  you're  better,  Joey, 

Mebbe  I  kin  take  you  there. 
Flowers  in  heaven?     'M — I  s'pose  so; 

Dunno  much  about  it,  though; 
Ain't  as  fly  as  wot  I  might  be 

On  them  topics,  little  Joe. 


But  I've  heerd  it  hinted  somewheres 

That  in  heaven's  golden  gates 
Things  is  everlastin'  cheerful — 

B'lieve  that's  what  the  Bible  states. 
Likewise,  there,  folks  don't  git  hungry: 

So  good  people,  w'en  they  dies, 
Finds  theirselves  well  fixed  forever — 

Joe,  my  boy,  wot  ails  yer  eyes? 
'3* 


POOR  LITTLE  JOE. 

Thought  they  looked  a  little  sing'ler. 

Oh,  no!     Don't  you  have  no  fear; 
Heaven  was  made  fur  such  as  you  is — 

Joe,  wot  makes  you  look  so  queer? 
Here — wake  up!     Oh,  don't  look  that  way! 

Joe!     My  boy!     Hold  up  yer  head! 
Here's  yer  flowers — you  dropped  'em  Joey. 

Oh,  my  God,  can  Joe  be  dead? 


137 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


UNDER  A   CANVAS   SKY. 


OUR  turn  at  last!     Now,  Roland,  go! 
A  triumph  waits  for  us  you  know; 
The  clown  looks  on  with  hard  grimace 
Upon  his  leering,  painted  face; 
The  tyrant  of  the  ring  walks  round 
And  cracks  his  whip  with  pistol  sound; 
The  crowd  applauds; — now  faster  yet, 
With  gallop  and  with  pirouette! 
Our  blood  is  up,  we  know  no  fear, 
A  whirlwind  in  our  mad  career, 
My  horse  and  I,  away  we  go!— 
What  pain  is  this  that  chills  me  so? 


A  pain  that  always  comes  to  me 
With  bitter  envy  when  I  see 
A  maiden  fair,  with  shining  hair, 
Like  yonder  girl  that  nestles  there, 
And   looks  up  to  her  lover's  face 
With  wistful  eyes  and  tender  grace. 
138 


UNDER  A  CANVAS  SKY. 

Alas !    for  me  no  eyes  are  fond, 
I  hold  no  heart  in  silken  bond, 
I  have  no  part  with  love  or  tears, 
No  mother  cares,  no  tender  fears, 
I  have  no  joy  this  trade  above, 
I  am  a  thing  no  man  will  love; 
A  circus-rider,  bold  and  free, 
Unsexed,  unloved,  unwomanly. 

Ho!    bring  the  flags,  balloons  and  rings! 
I'll  cut  a  dash,  for  all  the  stings 
That  lash  me  when  I  see  the  sight 
Of  lovers'  eyes  with  love  alight. 
Yon  maiden's  innocent  young  heart 
Some  day  with  bitter  wounds  shall  smart; 
She  yet  shall  know  that  lovers'  vows 
The  cause  of  shame  and  death  espouse; 
Or,  if  she  live  to  be  a  wife, 
That  love  grown  cold  is  death  in  life. 
Away!    my  gallant  steed,  away! 
What  care  we  for  such  trivial  play? 
Blow,  trumpets,  with  your  brazen  throats! 
One  sky  o'er  all  the  wide  world  floats. 

One  sky  ?  My  world  is  in  this  tent ; 
My  sky  is  canvas,  somewhat  rent 
And  soiled  with  handling, — so  am  I; 
What  know  I  of  the  clear  blue  sky? 
How  would  these  gaping  idiots  stare 
139 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

To  see  me  make  a  dash  for  air, 
And  ride  straight  out  of  yonder  door 
All    heedle>s   of  what    lies   before; 
Out   in   the   moon\   clear,   silver   li-ht  ; 
Out   in   the  cool,  tresh  air  of  night; 
Away    from   all   the  senseless   din, 
The  gari.sh  lights,  the  painted  sin, 
The   c  ra-hin^   thunder  of  the  band, 
Into  the  peace  of  some  new  land? 


There  is  no  such,  and  nothing  new 
Will  come  for  aught  that  I  can  do. 
New,  unknown  lands  are  for  the  dead, 
And  in  this  tent  I  win  my  bread, 
And  bread  is  life,  and  life  is  long, 
And  must  be  lived  by  weak  and  strong. 

Look,  lovers'  eyes,  for  what  you  prize, 

Into  each  other's  love-lit  eyes! 

Be  merry  if  you  can,  I  know 

What  fools  you  are,  but,  even  so, 

I  envy  you  the  happy  lot 

Of  being  fooled — as  I  am  not. 

But  if  my  chance  in  life  had  been 
To  be  a  maiden  fair,  within 
A  home  made  beautiful  and  bright 
With  peace  and  plenty,  then  I  might, 


UNDER  A  CANVAS  SKY. 

Perhaps,  have  known  what  love  can  do 

To  sanctify  the  favored  few; 

My  heart  might  then  have  known  the  bliss 

Of  leaning  to  a  lover's  kiss; 

Of  looking  up  with  maiden  grace 

Into  a  lover's  strong,  bright  face; 

Of  finding  hope  and  joy  and  rest 

Upon  a  tender,  manly  breast. 


Now  for  the  hurdles!     Roland,  see, 

They've  laid  out  work  for  you  and  me. 

You  are  the  lover  that  I  prize! 

Fire  flashes  from  your  splendid  eyes! 

Once,  twice  around,  once  more,  and  then — 

Well  done,  sir!     Bravo!     Once  again! 

With  you  I'd  ride  at  Fate  outright, 

And  jump  the  gates  of  Death  at  sight! 

Good  horse!     Well  sprung!     Now  dash  away! 

I  do  not  care  in  this  wild  play 

For  all  that  my  hard  life  has  cost, 

For  all  the  things  that  I  have  lost, 

For  aught  that  grim  mischance  can  bring, 

For  life  or  love  or  anything! 

Away!    away!    my  gallant  steed,  ' 

With  clattering  hoof  and  lightning  speed, 

And  show  to  staring  dunce  and  dolt 

How  flies  a  living  thunderbolt! 


141 


MASK  AND  DOMIXO. 

So  weak  and   faint!     What  hurts  me  so? 
What  was  that  \\  hi  -per  ing  sad  and  low? 
What  ghostly  faces  did  I  see? 
What  far  off  music  came  to  me 
Like  wailing  dirges  for  the  dead? 
What  mountains  rest  upon  my  head? 
What  river  rushes  dark  and  drear? 
What  dashing  waves  are  those  I  hear? 
Dreams! — But  I  am  not  dreaming  now, 
Helpless  and  weak  and  crushed — but  how? 


A  thousand  eyes  were  on  me  there, 
A  thousand  voices  filled  the  air, 
And  stirred  the  very  flags  unfurled, 
And  then  a  crash  that  shook  the  world; 
That  thrust  me  down  from  life  and  light 
Into  a  dim  and  dreadful  night 
Of  phantom  shapes  and  sounds  of  fear — 
Ah,  yes,  I  know,  I'm  dying  here. 


Dying? — And  Roland  too  is  dead? 
I  would  have  gladly  died  instead. 
My  splendid  horse!     And  there  was  none 
For  me  to  love  but  him,  not  one. 
Dying!     And  Roland  dead!     Then  I 
nothing  left  to  do  but  die. 


UNDER  A  CANVAS  SKY. 

Only  a  girl's  face  fond  and  fair, 
But  yet  it  drove  me  to  despair, 
And  made  me  reckless,  mad  and  wild. 
But  it  was  not  her  fault,  poor  child. 
Why  that  is  she!     Kneel  by  me  here, 
And  pray  to  God  for  me,  my  dear. 
I  had  no  lover,  child  or  friend, 
But  rode  my  best  unto  the  end, 
For  that  was  all  I  had  to  do. 
Life  came  with  sweeter  gifts  to  you. 
Pray  for  me!  -  It  is  cold  and  dark. — 
Can  that  be  Roland  neighing? — Hark! 
Yes,  I  am  coming.     Roland,  see, 
They're  waiting  there  for  you  and  me. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


FATHER  JOHN. 


HE  warn't  no  long-faced  man  o'  prayer, 
A  peddling  scriptures  here  and  there, 
A  shooting  off  his  texts  and  tracts 
Without  regard  to  dates  and  facts 
Or  time  or  place,  like  all  possessed, 
Till  weary  sinners  couldn't  rest; 
Fatiguing  unregenerate  gents, 
And  causing  molls  to  swear  immense. 


He  didn't  snivel  worth  a  cent, 
Nor  gush  to  any  great  extent, 
But  labored  on  a  level  plan— 
A  priest,  but  none  the  less  a  man — 
Among  the  slums  and  boozing-kens, 
And  in  the  vilest  holes  and  dens, 
Amongst  the  drabs  and  owls  and  worse — 
For  saints  in  these  here  parts  are  skerce; 
This  ward  ain't  noways  flush  o'  them, 
It  ain't  no  New  Jerusalem. 
144 


FATHER  JOHN. 

He  preached  but  little,  argued  less, 
But  if  a  moll  was  in  distress, 
Or  if  a  kinchin  came  to  grief, 
Or  trouble  tackled  rogue  or  thief, 
There  Father  John  was  sure  to  be 
To  blunt  the  edge  o'  misery; 
And  somehow  managed  every  time 
To  ease  despair  or  lessen  crime. 


That  corner  house  was  always  known 
Around  these  parts  as  Poger's  Own, 
Till  two  pams  in  a  drunken  fight 
Set  the  whole  thing  afire  one  night. 
And  where  it  stood  they  hypered  round, 
And  blasttd  rocks  and  shoveled  ground 
To  build  the  factory  over  there — 
The  one  you  see — and  that  is  where 
Poor  Father  John — God  give  him  rest! — 
Preached  his  last  sermon,  and  his  best. 


One  summer's  day  the  thing  was  done; 
The  workmen  set  a  blast  and  run. 
They  ain't  so  kerful  here,  I  guess, 
Where  lives  ain't  worth  a  cent  apiece, 
As  in  the  wards  where  things  is  dear, 
And  nothing  ain't  so  cheap  as  here; 
Leastwise,  the  first  they  seed  or  knowed, 
A  little  chick  had  crossed  the  road. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

He  seemed  to  be  just  out  o'  bed, 
Bare-legged,  with  nothing  on  his  head; 
Chubby  and  cunning,  with  his  hair 
Blown  criss-cross  by  the  morning  air; 
Dragging  a  tin  horse  by  a  string, 
Without  much  care  for  anything; 
A  talking  to  himself  for  joy, 
A  toddling,  kerless,  baby  boy. 

Right  for  the  crawling  fuse  he  went, 
As  though  to  find  out  what  it  meant; 
Trudging  towards  the  fatal  spot, 
Till  less'n  three  feet  off  he  got 
From  where  the  murdering  thing  lay  still, 
Just  waiting  fur  to  spring  and  kill; 
Marching  along  towards  his  grave,- 
And  not  a  soul  dared  go  to  save. 

They  hollered — all  they  durst  to  do; 
He  turned  and  laughed,  and  then  bent  low 
To  set  the  horsey  on  his  feet, 
And  went  right  on  a  crowing  sweet. 
And  then  a  death-like  silence  grew 
On  all  the  trembling,  coward  crew, 
;ch  swift  second  Deemed  the  last 
re  the  roaring  of  the  blast. 

then  some  chance  or  purpose  brought 
The  priest;  he  saw,  and  quick  as  thought 
146 


FATHER   JOHN. 

He  ran  and  caught  the  child,  and  turned 
Just  as  the  slumbering  powder  burned, 
And  shot  the  shattered  rocks  around, 
And  with  its  thunder  shook  the  ground. 

The  child  was  sheltered;   Father  John 
Was  hurt  to  death;  without  a  groan 
He  set  the  baby  down,  then  went 
A  step  or  two,  but  life  was  spent; 
He  tottered,  looked  up  to  the  skies 
With  ashen  face,  but  strange,  glad  eyes. 
"My  love,  I  come!"  was  all  he  said, 
Sank  slowly  down,  and  so  was  dead. 

Stranger,  he  left  a  memory  here 
That  will  be  felt  for  many  a  year, 
And  since  that  day  this  ward  has  been 
More  human  in  its  dens  of  sin. 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 


LOVE   IN  OYSTER  BAY. 


J  AIN'T  anybody  in  particular, 
And  never  cal'lated  to  be; 
I'm  aware  that  my  views  doesn't  signify 

Except  to  Belinda  and  me; 
JJiit  I'm  heavy  on  openin'  oysters — 

In  regards  to  them  I  am  free 
To  remark,  that  for  shcllin'  of  Blue  Points, 
There  is  few  that  can  lay  over  me. 


Excuse  my  perfessional  blowin', 

It  isn't  the  point  I  would  make; 
But  I'm  feelin'  particular  airy 

An'  uncommonly  wide-awake; 
An'  I've  got  to  be  talkin'  about  it, 

It  won't  lay  quiet  y'  see, 
Which  the  name  of  tin-  i^irl  is  Belinda 

That's  took  an  affection   for  me. 


LOVE  IN  OYSTER  BAY. 

It's  surprising     The  fact  is  surprisin'! 

Just  cast  your  eye  over  this  frame — • 
Is  there  anything  specially  gallus, 

Which  characterizes  the  same? 
As  a  model  for  makin'  wax-figgers 

I  shouldn't  make  much  of  a  stir; 
But  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  worry, 

So  long  as  I'm  pleasin'  to  her. 


An  impediment  hinders  my  speakin' 

As  I  should  admire  to  do; 
As  an  elocution  professor 

My  scholars  would  likely  be  few; 
But  she  said,  when  I  mentioned  it  to  her, 

"Why,  dear,  don't  you  fret,  for  you  see, 
You  tell  me  you  love  me,  my  darling, 

And  your  voice  is  like  music  to  me." 


I  was  never  indicted  for  intellect 

Nor  never  arrested  for  cheek, 
But  I'm  holdin'  my  head  elevated 

Since  Thursday  night  was  a  week; 
Fur  that  was  the  date  when  Belinda 

Allowed  she  was  partial  to  me, 
And  give  me  a  relish  fur  livin' 

An'  a  notion  of  workin'  fur  she. 
149 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

She  isn't  egzackly  a.  beauty, 

And  also  she  uses  a  crutch; 
But  the  eyes  of  that  dear  little  cripple 

The  heart  of  an  oyster  would  touch; 
They  is  wonderful  soft,  and  so  lovin'— 

A  good-lookin'  face  on  the  whole, 
Fur  the  light  in  them  eyes  seems  to  travel 

Right  out  from  a  beautiful  soul. 


If  she  had  been  lively  and  hearty 

I  couldn't  have  helped  her,  y'  see; 
An'  similar,  then,  it  ain't  likely 

That  she  would  uv  took  up  with  me. 
An'  I  wouldn't  uv  knowed  her  and  loved  her, 

So  patient  and  gentle  and  sweet; 
An'  i  wish  that  the  whole  ov  creation 

I  could  lay  at  her  poor  little  feet. 


I  was  never  so  chirk  an'  galloptious, 

An'  never  before  felt  so  spry; 
An'  I've  just  took  to  noticin',  lately, 

How  amazin'ly  blue  is  the  sky; 
An'  how  gay  is  the  stars  in  the  night-time, 

A  winkin'  and  glimmerin'  down — 
Good  gracious!     I  come  near  forgettin' 

That  barrel  of  oysters  for  Brown. 

X50 


WARDEN,  KEEP  A  PLACE  FOR  ME. 


WARDEN,   KEEP  A   PLACE   FOR  ME. 


pvISCHARGED  again!     Yes,  I  am  free, 
-L^    But,  Warden,  keep  a  place  for  me; 
For  freedom  means  that  I  must  go 
Out  in  the  wind  and  rain  and  snow, 
To  fight  with  hunger,  shame  and  cold, 
A  woman  gray  and  worn  and  old; 
To  clothe  myself  in  rags  again, 
And  seek  some  wretched,  narrow  den. 
And  after  that  what  must  be  done? 
Steal?     Beg?     Hard  lines  for  any  one. 
To  work  is  easier.     I  would  try , 
But  there's  no  work  for  such  as  I. 
A  fine  thing,  truly,  to  be  free, 
But,  Warden,  keep  a  place  for  me, 
For  I'll  come  back.     It's  seven  years 
Since  first  I  entered  here  in  tears. 
"Drunk  and  disorderly"  I  came, 
And  felt  the  burden  and  the  shame, 
The  prison  taint,  the  outlaw's  dread, 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

When  first  behind  his  hopeless  tread 

The  :ang  to  with  dreadful  sound 

rk  prison  walls  close  round. 

But  when    1   went   away,   I  said: 

••If  1   can   earn   my   daily   bread 

Til  work  my   fingers  off  before 

Til  wear  a  convict's  dress  once  more." 

;id      1   meant   it,  too. 
Work?     Is  there  work  enough   to  do 
For  those  who  spend  their  weary  live--. 
Like  toiling  bees  in  busy  hives, 
And  >tarve  at   la>i  ?     When  willing  hands. 
That   never  broke   the  law's  commands, 
Are  idle  by  the  thousands,  how 
Can  jail-birds  keep  a  virtuous  vow? 

No  work,  but  all  the  same  I  found 
The  time  for  meals  would  come  around; 
No  work,  but  time  enough  to  think. 
And  that's  the  easy  road  to  drink. 
Who  cared,  who  cares,  that  I  was  then 
"Drunk  and  disorderly"  again? 
Who  cares  that  ever  with  the  be-t 
I  was  a  woman  like  the  rest? 
Who  cares  that  one  day  in  my  life 

-  a  happy,  joyor. 

None  care,  and  I  care  less  than  tlu 
And  curse  the  man  and  curse  the  cl 


WARDEN,  KEEP  A  PLACE  FOR  ME. 

How  did  1  know  that  he  would  be 
A  drunken  scoundrel,  dragging  me 
Down  in  the  mire?     Alas,  the  life 
He  led  me!     Oh,  the  bitter  strife 
'Twixt  love  and  hate!     He  went  away 
And  left  me  with  my  little  May — 
My  little  child!     My  little  pearl! 
My  pretty  brown-eyed  baby-girl! 
Bah — that  was  only  childhood's  grace! 
She  grew  up  with  her  father's  fact, 
Her  father's  selfish,  wicked  heart; 
Grew  up  to  take  an  evil  part; 
Grew  up  to  soil  her  mother's  name, 
And  cover  it  with  double  shame. 

But  I've  a  little  baby  dress — 

The  one  soft  vein  of  tenderness 

That's  run  through  all  these  hateful  years — 

I've  wet  it  many  a  time  with  tears, 

And  many  a  time  at  dead  of  night 

I've  clasped  it  to  my  bosom  tight. 

What  for?     Because  it  means  for  me 

A  simple,  sinless  memory; 

Because  it  means  there  was  a  time 

When  I,  now  gray  with  want  and  crime, 

Old  jail-bird  as  I  am  to-day, 

Knew  how  to  love  and  dared  to  pray. 

What  did  I  do?     How  could  I  know 
That  things  would  go  against  me  so? 
153 


MASK  AND  DOMINO. 

How  could  I  help  it?     Did  I  plan 
The  fate  that  bound  me  to  that  man? — 
The  hard,  blind  fate  that  dragged  me  down 
Amon^  the  wretches  of  the  town?— 
That  snatched  away  all  hope,  all  chance, 
And  twisted  every  circumstance 
Against  me,  till  at  last  I  stood 
Stripped  of  my  very  womanhood? 
I  could  not  dare  to  stop  and  think — 
Was  it  my  fault  I  took  to  drink? 

No,  I'm  not  fit  for  liberty; 

It  ain't  a  wholesome  thing  for  me; 

The  jail  takes  care  of  me  too  well. 

Better  to  be  locked  in  a  cell, 

Where  all  is  clean,  and  sleep  is  sweet, 

Than  roam  the  misery-haunted  street; 

Better  the  work  they  give  us  here 

Than  what  awaits  me  when  I'm  clear; 

Better  the  silence  we  must  keep 

Than  drunken  cries  and  curses  deep; 

Better  the  dull  days  free  from  pain 

Than  shattered  nerves  and  throbbing  brain; 

Better  the  quiet,  sober  life 

Than  yonder  city's  desperate  strife; 

Better  the  prison's  homely  fare, 

Better  the  prison's  watchful  care, 

Better  for  me  than  liberty — 

So,  Warden,  keep  a  place  for  me. 


154 


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